Blood and Pride
by zozobee
Summary: Lizzy works wonders with blood as a forensic analyst and she has never met a case she couldn't solve. But when a murdered man is found, the clues don't add up. Can she, with the help of FBI investigator Special Agent Darcy, finally catch the criminal?
1. A Beginning

It is a truth universally acknowledged that those who fight the hardest win. It's a supposed truth, an accepted truth. And Elizabeth was living proof of it. Elizabeth had been born to a working class family. They always had enough to survive, but never enough to truly live. Her father had been a bookbinder, working for a publishing house, slaving away for hours every day. Her mother was always bouncing between jobs, her manner impertinent and her rear end constantly on the chopping block.

Elizabeth likes to think she was successful, considering what had happened and all. Her family had never truly been there for her, even less now that they were gone. But she shook off whatever feelings of neglect she felt. She had a job to do.

"Doctor. We need you." Elizabeth ran to the side of the victim.

" There's a slash on the jugular vein, he would have bled out in minutes. They slashed the femoral, too. Stab marks in the kidneys. He was flipped over; whoever did this did it out of rage. It's not methodical, its emotional, passionate. But he's dead all right".

"Well then." James smiled. "I guess its time start doing your job."

Elizabeth scoffed. James was ridiculous, he always had been. Her grad student, he was helpful and all, but usually not worth the trouble he caused. But he tended to come up with the explanation when Elizabeth couldn't. And that was a fine reason to keep him around.

"You first. I need pictures of the body, and the entire scene out from at least five meters. I'll do blood spatter. We'll need to find dentals, DNA, anything to identify the body."

"You've got it doctor." James smiled and went about his work. Elizabeth let a hint of a grin crawl on her face. She liked being called doctor.

She ran the red string through the hoops, doing a basic analysis of what had happened. Elizabeth had a gift. She could run an entire murder scene through in her head, based only on the traces of blood left behind. She could decipher the crawls and drips. She knew the difference between splatters and splotches. She knew that an automated tool caused similar patterns, while melee weapons caused irregular, jagged cuts on the body and jagged spurts of blood. She knew everything from the blood, because the blood was the evidence that could never be washed away. You could try, but Elizabeth would always find you from the blood you left behind.

She tore the gloves off, blood pooling in the fingertips of the rubber. They had gone over every inch of the site; it was time to go back to Jane. Jane would be able to help with the rest.


	2. A Revelation

"Well, this is definitely new". Jane stood up. Jane was an invaluable asset to Elizabeth. They worked together on every case. Jane had been a practicing surgeon before she got sick of the lack of decent medical care. She did humanitarian trips, saving the lives of hundreds. Even if Elizabeth did get sick of Jane's do-gooder attitude, she had to admit that having a doctor around, one who actually got through medical school, was incredibly important to the cause. Jane still did the occasional surgery, but she worked with Elizabeth most of the time, helping to solve the crimes that Lizzy got called in for. They had heard the crime solving sister duo joke way too many times.

"You see the slash wounds, yes?" Elizabeth nodded. "Well, they're superficial. The victim was dead before they were inflicted."

"So, you're saying…the sliced jugular has nothing to do with the whole dead part?"

"It sounds weird, but yes. The victim was strangled"

The two sisters sat down in the lab, minds whirling at the new development for the case. The killer was smart. But why would he try to throw them off like that? What was he trying to hide?

"We have an ID on the victim" said James. "A Bill Collins. I got full medical records and everything. But the best part? Bill's a resident of California, yet his body wound up in a forest outside of DC. That makes it federal."

"Damn" said Elizabeth. "I hate getting the FBI involved."

"Hey" said Jane, "You know you love it. Maybe we'll get that cute agent again. What was his name, Bingley? And his partner was cute too."

"Yeah, Darcy" said Elizabeth. "He'd be cute if he wasn't such an a.."

"Sorry to interrupt girl talk" said Hamilton. "But, we do have a murder victim, yes?"

Hamilton was the supervisor of the lab. He oversaw everything that went on, and everyone pretty much hated him. He had a habit of barreling in at any moment and critiquing what he had no idea about. They rolled their eyes and looked back at the victim, apparently a Mr. Collins. They sat down, fanning the pictures of the crime scene out on the desk.

"There's something that doesn't add up. If he was strangled, why slash him? And then, why did the blood come out?" Elizabeth pondered Jane's questions when Jane's eyes popped out of her head. She swabbed the victim's neck, getting a sample of the blood. She tapped it into a beaker of solution, preparing a slide while Elizabeth looked on in awed confusion. Jane flipped open the medical records, and then sat down, looking into the microscope.

"What's wrong?" asked Elizabeth.

"So, the body wouldn't bleed like that if they had already been strangled, right?"

"So why was there blood around his neck, if it couldn't have been the victim who bled?"

"I checked the blood. It's a different blood type." Elizabeth crinkled her brows.

"So, if it wasn't the victim who bled all over himself, whose blood is that?"

Jane sat back from the microscope.

"It means there's another body."


	3. A Meeting

"Wait, another body?" said Elizabeth. "But, there isn't another body to be found, we haven't found anything. Mother fu…"

"Lizzy, I believe that's where the FBI comes in," said Jane. "I got a call, they're on their way".

Jane's voice always had a calming effect on Lizzy. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she liked hearing the sound of her voice. She closed her eyes, leaning back in her chair, absorbing the new information. There was another body, but how could they find it? Where were they supposed to look?

She joined James in the lab, Bill lying there being somewhat less than helpful. He had yet to reveal anything substantial about his murder, and he was starting to frustrate all of those working in the lab, not to mention smell rather abysmal. James had been going over every inch of the body since they had first gotten it back to the lab. The murder weapon had been found easily enough. It was a commercial grade rope sold all over the country, the fibers embedded in the neck did little to help identify where it had been purchased. The knife wounds, despite their superficiality, needed to be checked as well. It had proved to just be a stainless steel kitchen knife, sharp and deadly. It too was sold all over the country. There were no new leads and there was another body to find. The thought haunted Elizabeth. Her job was to solve these things, not to let them slide by.

She pored over the photographs. There weren't bloodstains, except for those that pooled under the body. But all the stab wounds had been post mortem, so that made sense. Any sort of struggle and blood would have gone on the walls, coating them in a sanguine slime. That was what Lizzy specialized in. That was why she got cases, why she got paid. It was to analyze the blood. But there was nothing to analyze here. Unless… Lizzy got an idea, but was interrupted by the arrival of the FBI.

Bingley was a tall gawky man of red hair and ridiculous manner, but he made Elizabeth laugh. He was, quite possibly, one of the sweetest men that Elizabeth had ever met, and it killed her that he could be corrupted by slaving away in a job like this. What surprised her was that it hadn't happened to him yet. She couldn't even say that much for herself, and she had been pretty corrupt from the start. She turned to the man beside him and, despite her best efforts, her heart melted.

She had always had a soft spot for Darcy, especially after what had happened last time they had been forced to work together. His tall frame was beautiful, from his dark moppy hair to the twinkling blue eyes to the rippling muscles that just barely showed their magnificence under his sleek black suit. He smiled and took a step forward. Unconsciously, she took a step back. "Not this time" she told herself. "It won't happen again."

"Hello Elizabeth". His smile oozed charm and poise. The man could really turn it on when he wanted to. Elizabeth stared at him, mouth agape, eyes wide. Jane stepped in.

"I'm sorry, our Elizabeth just hit a small break in the case. She's a little awestruck right now." Elizabeth shot a look of thanks at Jane, who nodded in return. She led the two agents into the autopsy room, leaving Elizabeth to collect her thoughts. She sat down on the bench, hunched over, hands trailing between her legs, elbows perched on her knees. She hung her head, breathing deeply. _In…out…in…out _she told herself. _In and out_. She thought she could handle seeing them again, she thought that the feelings had dissipated. She thought she could do this. Apparently Jane had been able to recover enough to continue the working relationship. For the umpteenth time in her life, Elizabeth thanked God for the fact that she had an older sister, someone to protect her. Needless to say, her parents hadn't exactly excelled in that field. She stood up, determined to make this work. There was a murder to solve.

She walked into the autopsy room. The only thing she could do was laugh at the looks on the faces of Bingley and Darcy. If there was one thing she had done in all her years as a worker in forensics, she had gotten used to the smell of putrefaction. It was only the odd case that disgusted her now. That small percentage wasn't a fact that she was exactly proud of. She hated any reminder of her supposedly lost humanity.

"The victim is a Bill Collins," she said. "A resident of California, and he ended up in the forests outside D.C."

"Yes, we read the file," said Darcy. Lizzy scoffed; apparently he hadn't quite gotten over his terse manner.

"Hmm, did you read that he was strangled, then stabbed? Or that he was covered in another man's blood?" A look of horror crossed Bingley's face; apparently he hadn't quite gotten over that aspect of the job. Darcy seemed non-plussed.

"Did you think to get DNA off of the blood?"

"It's running now". The two glared at each other.

"OK children, lets calm down" said Jane. Elizabeth humphed and stalked off. Just before she got out of earshot, she heard him say, his smile conveyed in his voice, "Well, she hasn't changed a bit."

"Absolutely not" replied Jane.


	4. A Small Argument

Elizabeth hated Darcy's guts. Granted, she admitted that he was beautiful and gorgeous and handsome and funny and charming and brilliant and…ugh. She shuddered at the thought; all the two had shared and she still regarded him as this sort of omnipotent power. There was a reason she hated him, or, at least, should have hated him more. She couldn't quite put a finger on it, couldn't quite describe it. There was something inside of him, a conceited nature if you will. Like he had been the golden boy in high school and had never quite gotten over the renown afforded to him then being gone now. He walked with a sort of purpose that displayed his arrogant arse, sauntering through the halls, his tall frame barely fitting through the doorways, filling every room he walked into with his…presence. Elizabeth skulked back into her office. She, being a five foot five female, never really had the opportunity to fill doorways. She tried to rely on her personality to fill a room, but the scowling façade usually did a pretty good job of preventing people from commenting on her lovely personality. She sat down at her desk, swiveling back and forth in her chair, closing her eyes and entering the feeling of relaxation that came with being in her own space, alone. She thought about the case. She was determined to solve this one without having to deal with the FBI too much, despite the fact that the FBI really was a main source of income for the lab.

Elizabeth and Jane ran their own lab, sure. But the state police, any sort of private investigator, or, in this specific case, the FBI, usually contracted them out. As much as Elizabeth hated to admit it, she and Jane owed a lot to Darcy and Bingley. When all their cases were combined, they probably had paid for about half of Lizzy's new apartment. Despite their sometimes less than enjoyable connections, Lizzy was proud of the lab she and her sister were able to run. Her eyes scanned the walls of the office. Two massive mahogany bookcases surrounded a massive desk of the same material. Medical and scientific texts lined the bottom shelves, the serious books giving way to the more fictional of scientific literature. Elizabeth had a soft spot for science fiction novels. The two bookcases were stuffed to overflowing, stacks of books rising high on either sides of the shelves and lining the room. The desk itself was more of a piece of art than a functioning piece of furniture. Intricate scrolls covered the posts, carved leaves of dark brown curling and twisting and arching and falling in glorious patterns of flora. The only thing that sat upon it was a shining computer, a glinting reminder of the century in which Elizabeth lived. Medical journals and back issues of Popular Science were stacked on a coffee table next to a couch upon which Elizabeth had spent many a night pondering a case that had yet to break. A rug of reds and golds complimented the darkness of the room, the English side of her becoming ever more apparent. The rest of the lab was clean and clear with lines of silver and chrome. Big windows allowed light into the rest of the lab, but Elizabeth's office had nary a window and was lit only by a large lantern-like lamp that hung from the middle of the ceiling. When the door was shut and the light extinguished, the room was completely black. It was just the way Lizzy liked it.

She left the door open for now, part of her wishing that one of the others would come to visit her. Her wish was granted in the form of Darcy, thus negating every aspect of the wish. He walked in, sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of the desk. He sat with his feet upon Lizzy's desk, his suit jacket falling open to reveal the taut stomach just barely hidden by the white dress shirt his job required him to wear. Lizzy glared at him, the got up to close the door. She turned back towards him, leaning against the shelf that flanked the desk to the right side. She cocked her head, eyes questioning.

"What the hell do you want?" she asked, eyes smiling.

"We should be friends Lizzy, despite what has…you know…happened". His eyes twinkled, dancing. Lizzy scoffed and made her way back to her seat.

"And, why do you think that". She figured she might as well play his game. The twinkle in his eyes left, his demeanor now as cold and closed as when she had first met the man. He took his feet off the desk and leaned forward, his face inches from hers.

"Because, there's a dead man on that table out there, and it's my job to figure out why he's there and not with his family in California".

"Touchy, aren't we"

"You don't get it, do you?" He sighed. "You never got it. For you, it's always been about solving the puzzle, fixing something. For me, it's about saving lives. Preventing what happened to Bill out there from happening to other people. To people like you".

Instinctively she stood up, hackles raised. She hated him when he did this. He feigned a lack of people knowledge, a lack of skill with those around them, but inside, he was a cold, calculating son of a bitch. His eyes danced with the knowledge that he had won the exchange. He stood up to leave, but turned just before he left the door.

"We'll talk soon," he said, eyes glinting. She ran to the door and slammed it in his face. She walked back to her desk, beginning the swiveling once more. She closed her eyes and began the deep breathing her therapist had told her was a good idea, but her fists continued to clench in anger. She hated when people brought up her parents.


	5. A Sisterly Competition and an Apology

Lizzy couldn't let Darcy get the best of her. He was an asshole, she had accepted that. All she had to do was get through the case. It was a simple enough task, she had done it before dealing with people that she hated; that state trooper who couldn't keep his eyes off of her chest, the wife of said state trooper who happened to be a cop helping with the case, practically every single federal agent she had ever come in contact with. She had yet to find one who wasn't a noxious piece of crap. But that was beside the point. She could just ignore Darcy as best as she could. She really didn't even have to talk to him all that much. She could go through Bingley, who was harmless enough. Or she could defer to her sister's superior skills of pleasing communication and allow her to be the one in charge of everything to do with the Bureau for this case, but she tried not to let it come to that. All she had to do was her job; she wasn't Darcy's mother and she didn't have to pretend to like him.

Lizzy spent as little time near Darcy as possible. Despite his background in the FBI and whatever sort of military career he must have had, Darcy had a thing about dead bodies. He avoided them like she avoided him. So she tried to stay in the lab as much as possible. Quite honestly, she preferred Bill's company to Darcy's.

After a week or so, Lizzy hit a dead end. She specialized in forensics and analysis, had dedicated her life to it. But there was nothing on the body that could even start to lead them to the killer. She knew that he had been strangled, but there were no fibers from the rope or strong or article of clothing that had been used. Little nicks along the line of strangulation showed that someone had plucked the fibers out one by one, even the microscopic ones. Little metallic particles proved that. The lacerations along Bill's body, despite the gravitas of their appearance, had been made with a common paring knife. Thousands, perhaps millions of them were in the country, there was no way to trace anything. Nothing else was off about the body and, had it not been for the lovely stench of death that emanated from his every pore, he would have been perfectly fine.

Lizzy spent hours staring at the pictures of the crime scene. She ran models of how Bill had been murdered, but without specific details on how he had been murdered, it was impossible to determine the age or weight or height of the assailant. There was nothing to go on.

She sat back in the chair at her desk, twirling a pencil in her fingers. It was a nervous habit, one that Lizzy only picked up when something was tormenting her. The pencil spun mindlessly while Lizzy's mind ran in circles. She had nothing to go on, there was nothing for her to do. She sat for maybe an hour, mind and pencil whirling, when Jane walked in. She sat down with the type of self-confidence only an older sister had and stared at Lizzy, whose eyes were almost crossed in sheer frustration at the crime.

"So, what's going on with you and Darcy?"

"I don't want to talk about it"

"Don't you think it's at least mildly important, considering the situation?"

Lizzy looked up, and the pencil stopped whirling with the advent of her scowl. She got up to close the door, then looked back at Jane's gloating smile.

"I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Is this about what happened last year? Lizzy, he was only trying to help."

The pencil stopped between Lizzy's fingers, having just started back up in an attempt to calm her down.

"I said, I don't want to talk about it."

But, out of pure instinct, Lizzy's eyes went to the cabinet that held the file.

"I knew it!" said Jane, with the air of happiness that came from vanquishing a sibling. After her, albeit brief, victory dance, Jane stood up, straightened her skirt, and motioned to leave. At the doorway, she paused.

"Listen Lizzy. He apologized to me for what he did, although frankly, he was just trying to be a good person. I admire him for being a brave enough person to stand up to you".

She ducked the bits of pencil that came flying towards her head from her sister's hand.

"Lizzy. He's a good person, trust me.

"I don't get how you can still see the good in people after doing this job for as long as we have."

"What can I say? I'm just magic."

She ducked out of the room, leaving Lizzy in the silence of her own mind. She closed her eyes, but they snapped back open when Jane popped her head back in and began to speak.

"Oops sis, I forgot to tell you." She scratched her head.

"There's another body". Jane ran down the hall, barely outpacing her somewhat more than mildly annoyed sister. Their clacking stilettos stopped in the lab, where Bingley, Darcy, and James were waiting to head out to the crime scene. The two sisters stopped their giggling and straightened themselves out before switching into the requisite attire for the crime scene. With a noticeable sigh of relief, the FBI agents piled into their cars, Lizzy and Jane riding with Bingley, James with Darcy.

They walked into the building where the body was, for the time being, being held. The smell of death that Jane and Lizzy had become so accustomed to filled the room. Bingley's eyes bulged and, maintaining as much of his manly swagger as he could under the circumstances, he left the room. The sisters' giggles did little to cover the sounds of retching coming from the hallway. Darcy winced, but stayed in the room.

"Not so afraid of dead bodies now, are we?" said Lizzy. Darcy stiffened.

"Ok, that was a long time ago and I've gotten better. I'm still here, aren't I?"

It had been about three years back. Darcy had been a fledgling agent and it was his first time out in the field on a murder case. Despite their relative infancy in the field, Lizzy and Jane had become used to the death that surrounded their line of work. This particular murder had been one in a series of vampire killings in which the murderer had abducted, raped, and killed young women, drinking their blood and, for lack of a better word, splattering in on the walls. This victim had been a young girl, only sixteen. Her wavy golden hair had been tinged red by the blood leaking from her neck. Her legs had been broken and splayed apart, the body naked and contorted as evidence of the sex crime that had obviously taken place. Darcy had uttered a small shriek and hightailed it out of the room. Jane and Lizzy would have laughed had the gruesome nature of the crime not registered on them as well. That had been the last victim of that particular vampire killer. Lizzy and Jane had found a hair on the body that had given them the necessary DNA. The killer had been in the Red Cross blood donation program, and the match had come up. The man had been sentenced to lethal injection; he had died about eight months ago. Lizzy brought herself out of the depressing yet mildly hilarious memory and back into the reality of the current grisly murder. The body was left in the same position they had found Bill, strangled and drenched in what could only be assumed was someone else's blood. But, this time, the body was female.

After all of the requisite samples had been taken from the site in which the body had been found, the body was packed up and taken back to the lab. James had photographed the entire scene, Jane salvaged as much of the blood found in the scene as she could, Lizzy searched for any traces of matter that would lead them to the killer, finding nothing. Darcy stood in the corner, ordering around three or four incredibly unlucky FBI-sanctioned lab techs that were in charge of swabbing the scene in conjunction with Lizzy. Bingley stood outside; gulping in air and cursing the day he had chosen this particular job. After finding nothing at the scene, everyone packed themselves up and prepared for the journey back to the lab. Jane expressed a desire to drive Bingley back. James offered to stay and corral the lab techs, happy to let Darcy continue on. Lizzy, taking something of a bullet for her most beloved sister, let them be and rode home with Darcy, walking into what she had been trying to avoid since the case had started.

They rode in silence; Lizzy curled in the corner of the passenger seat. She looked over at Darcy. She was beginning to get used to his presence. The sheer animal attraction that she had experienced before didn't hit her quite so much now, but there was something about his eyes, wise and brave. They sucked her very being in, daring her to give herself entirely to him. She looked away. She couldn't do that.

He cleared his throat, caused her to startle and glare at him. He smiled.

"I believe this is the point in which we speak to each other."

"I'm not sure that's quite a requisite."

"Well, then why are you driving with me?"

"Look, I'm doing Jane a favor. Don't read into it." She turned her head, willing herself to stare out the window and not into his eyes. He looked at her, and his voice changed.

"Look, Lizzy. I know you're still mad about last year. I was just trying to do the best thing for everyone."

"Yeah, well? You weren't. Look, we're here. Ciao, auf weidersein, goodbye, fuck off"

She jumped out of the car, walking as stoically back to her office as she could, leaving an awestruck Darcy. She closed the door to her office, closed her eyes and sighed. _Deep breaths_ she told herself. _Deep breaths_.

"Lizzy"

"Jesus" Lizzy started. "What is it with you people and not knocking."

"Calm down Lizzy" said Jane. "This is bloody important"

"What? What could it possibly be?" Lizzy started twirling a fresh pencil.

"We identified the victim" the pencil stopped.

"What, already? How?"

"Bingley. He…He…He knew her."

"What?"

"It was one of his sisters. A Caroline Bingley."


	6. A Confession

Lizzy spun in her chair, oddly grief stricken. It was weird to have this sort of a connection with one of the bodies in the lab. And this sort of connection with someone she had never met. She felt it a courtesy to Bingley. Bingley was a nice enough guy; he had never actually done anything to wrong her. He was the sort of guy that you knew was sweet, but sort of avoided because it was easier to stay in your own depressed funk when there wasn't anybody happy around you. Or at least that was how Lizzy felt. She had never exactly meshed well with the happier group of people, except Jane of course. And even that was only due to sisterly regard. And even though she loved her sister, there were times where she wanted to disembowel Jane for her overbearing happiness.

Lizzy was pretty sure it had started with her parents. They had lived in England until Lizzy was about eight, just toddling about and being ridiculous. Her father had been a member of parliament at that point in their lives, quite high up considering their meager beginnings. He had begun as a bookbinder, sure. And he still had read with a passion that couldn't be quenched. Lizzy tried to remember him as a bookbinder. That was when he had been happy. It was when they had all been happy. Her mother had always been the noxious type; there wasn't really anything to be remembered of her.

She shook herself out of the memories. Her therapist said that she shouldn't spend so much time reliving her past. She sighed; the reason she did what she did was because of the past.

"Lizzy." She jumped.

"Jesus bloody Christ." She yelped. "What is it with you and knocking?"

"Sorry." he smiled, but the grin fell off of his face as quickly as it had come on.

"Darcy, what do you want?"

"Oh, well, yes. Bingley's taking the day off, which makes sense of course considering…well, you know. Jane drove him home and, since the intern…"

"James. His name is James. And he's not an intern, he's a paid assistant"

"Ok, ok" smiled Darcy. "Since the paid assistant James is still taking pictures of a body, I figured we should take the opportunity to catch up. We haven't talked since the Amy Yang case."

Amy Yang had been found beaten and stabbed about a year previous.

"Yeah, and there's a reason for that. Asshole."

"Now now, that's no way to talk to your partner."

"Go to hell. And I'm not your partner." She made to leave. He stood.

"Now, Lizzy. Please." His voice switched from arrogant to penitent. "Lizzy, we have to talk."

"No, we most definitely do not." She left the room, walking towards Bill. Perhaps there was something she missed…

"Lizzy, are you still seeing Dr. Gardiner?" She stopped and spun angrily. She stomped up to him, grabbed his tie, and yanked his arrogant fact down to hers.

"What. Did. You. Just. Say?" For the first time, Darcy looked scared. He had never seen Lizzy so mad.

"I just…I just meant. Oh fuck." He wrenched himself from her grasp, and then sat down. "Lizzy, I'm sorry." For some reason, she felt her heart run warm again. There was something about this poor broken man. She sat next to him.

"Yeah, I'm still seeing him. Guess it's not working." She smiled. Darcy looked over at her.

"You know I'm sorry. For all of it. I…I…I'm sorry."

"I know."

"Look," he said. "There's something you should know about me. You know how I'm…well…sort of freaked by dead bodies?"

"The understatement of the century, but sure." He laughed.

"Yeah, I know it seems odd that someone who was a Navy SEAL is creeped out by the dead. After I served my tour of duty, I came home, just to check up on my dad and all. After my mom died, he sort of…well…I guess fell apart is the most apt way to say it." He was staring at the ground, Lizzy touched by the fact that he was pouring his soul out to her.

"I came home and, there he was. Dead. They said it was suicide, but it didn't quite add up. The trajectory was all wrong and he was holding the gun in the wrong hand and…"

"Darcy, I didn't know." She wrapped her hand around his shoulder, embracing the man she had been ready to kill mere moments before.

"Yeah, with what happened last year, you have to know that I was just trying to help. With what happened to your parents, I can relate. And, as crappy of a connection as it is to have, it's something. I just wanted you to know how utterly truly sorry I am. It was with the best of intentions." With that, he stood up and, wiping away what appeared to be tears, walked off.

Lizzy walked back to her office, stunned.

_Am I a horrible person? Yep, it's official. I'm a horrible person. How did I not know this, how did…that's unimportant. God, I'm just awful. And this is why I deal with dead people. _She sat down in her chair, twiddling the pencil absentmindedly. _Of course his parents are dead. How did I miss that?_ Lizzy took pride in her ability to read people, to dissect them with clinical skill. At least that was easy with the dead ones. She slumped over, mulling over her own ridiculous thoughts and opinions.

"Lizzy?" She jumped, praying that it was Darcy at her door. Then she noticed the distinctly feminine voice.

"Yeah, hey."

"Well, Bingley's at home, bawling. I left him alone with his thoughts for a bit, but I'm going to go back and visit later. James just got back, but the photos are rendering, there really isn't anything to do until morning. I was thinking to head home. Say we call it a night?"

"What time is it?"

"About 11:30, I'm dead tired." She ducked out of the room, then poked her head back in. "Hey, have you seen Darcy?" Lizzy looked up.

"Nope, haven't seen him at all." Jane shrugged and walked out.

Lizzy drove home. It was cold and windy, one of those beautiful nights where everything is cool and crisp. She stewed in her own thoughts, reaching no sort of conclusion before arriving to her destination. She walked up the stairs to her apartment, shutting the door behind her in an attempt to slam away all of the events of the day. She choked down some soup, brushed her teeth, and threw herself into bed. She tried to get away from the memories of what had happened today, but she just couldn't. They haunted her, wrapping and twisting inside her skull until, at long last, she finally fell asleep.


	7. A Mistress of Sorts

**Author's note: So, what with AP tests and finals coming up, I'm about to become ridiculously busy. I thought I'd get another chapter up quickly before my life goes to hell. But my question to you is, are longer chapters something to continue? I'm not that prolific in nature, and they'll certainly take longer to get up, but let me know in comments. After all, I write for you. Best wishes!**

There was blood everywhere. Running in her eyes, dripping down her body. She blinked, willing the scarlet ribbons trailing through her vision to go away.

"Please," she shrieked. "Just leave me alone!"

The wind whistled unseen, whipping through her hair. It sent chills down her spine. She couldn't see anything but the red. She stood there shaking, blood dripping into her mouth. It pooled in her lungs. She started choking, coughing, retching. She fell to her knees desperate to get the blood out of her. She coughed up pure blackness, a putrefied ooze that pooled on the floor, tinged red by the blood raining from the sky.

She was completely naked, wearing only the stained cloak of red from the falling liquid. Her hair was matted down the length of her back. She stood. Her fingers were stained, her feet shaking under the sea of blood that was slowly rising. It had reached her calves, the slurping pulsing liquid coursing and whipping around her legs. She screamed out in agony, there wasn't anything she could do but scream. She couldn't move her legs; she could barely twitch her hands. She was crying, tears mixing with the blood raining from the sky.

What had previously been only blackness tinged with red was now lit by a sun, a gleaming orb in the distance. It was shining and glinting, reminiscent of everything happy and good. She reached out towards it, desperate for any hint of a savior. The sun turned blood red, then dipped below the horizon. Screaming out, she crumpled to her knees. She started coughing up the blackness again. All she could see was the falling scarlet.

She cried and screamed, pulling at her hair. She could move her arms, but her legs were frozen in place. She found that she couldn't stand up. The blood was up to her chest, tearing at her own skin. It cut at her arms and legs, slicing her stomach. She felt her own blood running into the blood falling from the sky. It was up to her shoulders now. She couldn't stand up. She pulled and tore at herself, urging her body to stand. She was still choking, coughing, black ooze spluttering from her lungs and dripping out of her nose. She couldn't breathe.

The blood was licking at her chin, teasing her. Taunting her. Her dark hair floated behind her, twirling and twisting in the blood. Her entire body was stained red. She cried out, screaming for help, begging for mercy. But she couldn't move, and nobody came.

The blood came into her mouth, filled her mind with the metallic taste of death. She knew this feeling, the choking caused by death, the grasping for life. The tears poured down her face, but she couldn't scream anymore. It had come up to her nose, taking away any chance of survival. She saw a hand reaching out towards her, trying to save her. But the hand was too far away. She cried. The blood obscured her vision, covering her head. She tried to hold her breath, but she couldn't. She was still coughing, black sludge oozing from her mouth as she drowned in a sea of red. She wished she could reach her arm out and grab to hand outstretched to her. But it wouldn't reach her, it never did.

Her eyes flew open, body starting from the knock on the door. Lizzy rubbed her eyes, reaffirming herself to the land of the terrestrials. She looked down. There she was, lovely and flesh colored, wearing a pair of boxers and a tank top. She sighed audibly, happy to be out of the nightmare that had plagued her for months. She walked to the door of her apartment to answer the knock. She opened it, revealing a somewhat hastily clothed Darcy.

"Look, I'm sorry to bother you but…"

"What time is it?"

"About seven, why?"

"Nothing, I'm just." She yawned.

"Well, look, we have everything uploaded and rendered at the lab, I was thinking maybe we should go. It's been about two weeks, I'm ready to get somewhere."

"Slow down man. Just woke up. Jesus." She muttered the, putting on a feigned smile, declared that he might as well come in and have some coffee. He stepped into the room gingerly while she disappeared into the depths of the apartment. He chuckled briefly to himself before sitting down on an easy chair in what was most likely designed as a living room. The apartment was so quintessentially Lizzy. A kitchen took up most of the main area; he remembered how she loved to cook when she got the time. There was a small circular table next to some windows, a bowl of fruit perched lovingly by, most likely, her beloved sister Jane. She was the one with a knack for interior design. Most everything was in dark woods. The main pops of color came from the aforementioned bowl of fruit and the vast bookshelves that lined what seemed to be every wall of her apartment. He got up to peruse them; he knew he had a couple minutes left before she returned. He had just heard the shower turn off.

The books ranged every genre. There were the medical and scientific textbooks that her career necessitated; they took up a good three shelves. Then there were the science fiction novels, which rested next to fantasy. Poetry and non-fiction took up another shelf, while romance and comedy were on a top shelf that would have been hidden had it not been for Darcy's immense height. An entire case was dedicated to religious studies and language books, and magazines and loose papers were dispersed throughout the shelves. He pulled out a copy of _The Hitch Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy _to wander through while he waited for her to appear. He opened the book, laughing. She had gone through with pen and marked in what she thought were the inaccuracies of space travel, inserting her better ideas for what should be done.

"What's so funny?" Lizzy appeared, running a towel through her messy, wet hair.

"Just your annotations. Have you seriously read all of these?"

"It's what happens when you don't own a TV". Darcy scoffed.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"Calm yourself". She grabbed the apple and yogurt that would suffice as breakfast. "I'm ready."

"It's about bloody time woman."

Lizzy groaned.

"You know Darcy, they invented this thing called a phone. It's quite magical really. You can actually talk to people without being in the same room as them. It's bloody brilliant."

"Yes, you're hysterical. Here, we'll take my car."

"I'd prefer to drive myself thank you." Darcy glared at her. "Ok, we'll take your car, Jesus. Now, why can't I drive myself?" They got into his car.

"I'm not sure if you're aware Elizabeth, but there's a serial killer out there, you see. And we, as law enforcement officials, are trying to catch him or her. But, as you should know by now, they also tend to know who you are." Lizzy humphed.

A while back, Lizzy couldn't exactly remember when, there had been a rapist and murderer out and about. He had taken a fancy to Lizzy once she had started working the case and he had begun to stalk her. One night, after a long day at the lab, she had come home to find this man in her apartment, wrench brandished and eyes leering. Fortunately, Lizzy's father had been adamant that the girls take self-defense classes at a very young age. She kicked the wrench from his hands and knocked him out. He was taken into custody and charged with the rape and murder of two girls. Lizzy had been shaken, but she had forgotten about it until this moment. Now that she was reminded of it, she thought it oddly strange that she had managed to forget what most would consider an incredibly life changing event. She shook the memory from her head, yawned, and turned toward Darcy.

"I can't believe you remember that."

"I have a good memory." They sat in silence for a minute.

"Are we friends now?" He looked at her, eyebrows arched in confusion.

"What?"

"Are we friends now? Do we hang out, are you going to insist on protecting me from evil people now?"

"Ha, think of it as friendly coworkers. And yes, I do insist upon protecting you."

"I can handle myself."

"I'm sure you can. But if your nightmares are as bad as mine, I think we could use each other. Think of it as me asking you to protect me but we use my car." He chuckled, but she stared out the window, a petulant child in the body of a well-rounded adult.

"How did you know about the nightmares?" Darcy looked at her.

"Frankly, I'd be surprised if you didn't get them. We've gone through a lot of similar trials in our time, we're more similar than we care to think."

"I guess you're right. It's weird that I'm protecting the FBI agent though." He bristled slightly, manhood mildly shaken.

"Well…you…um…you see" he scratched his head, she whacked his shoulder.

"Please," she said. "I understand."

They arrived at the lab. James walked out to greet them.

"I scanned in all of the pictures, as well as x-rays of the body. She's with Bill."

"Thanks James." Lizzy walked to the lab into the autopsy room, where both Caroline and Bill were waiting. Darcy walked a couple of steps behind her. When they reached the bodies, she looked back at him. He grimaced, but followed her. It was weird, the respect she now held for this man. She wasn't quite sure how to comprehend it. Alas, there was work to be done. She put on a pair of gloved and began to analyze the new body. There was almost less to go on this time around. The DNA results for the blood found on Bill hadn't run a match, and the blood found on Caroline was neither hers nor Bill's. The sample was running now, but Lizzy had a feeling there wasn't anything to find in the blood. She wasn't exactly happy about that, blood was her thing.

Lizzy was methodical about running through the evidence left on the body. She took sampled from the organs to check for poisons, even though she was quite sure that the cause of death had been strangulation, same as before. She pored over every inch of the body, looking for any sort of particulate that had been left behind. But this body was the same as the one before. There was absolutely nothing left to go on.

"Lizzy."

"Hello Darcy."

"Yes, well I just got a call saying that there's someone who want to talk to me about the death of their husband. A Charlotte Collins." Lizzy looked up,

"The file didn't say anything about a wife."

"That's why I'm leaving. Just thought I'd let you know." He made to leave.

"Wait!" she jumped up. "I want to come."

Darcy motioned to the body. "Don't you have things to do?"

"James can take care of this. I want to come. Besides, you made me leave my car at home."

"Fair enough. But hurry yourself up. And for God's sake take off those gloves. I don't need blood in my car." She took the gloves off.

Once in the car, Lizzy commenced questioning Darcy.

"So, is Bingley officially off of the case?"

"FBI protocol. Considering one of his family members was killed, it's a conflict of interest for him to continue working the case."

"So that's where Jane is. So what do we do now? Are we questioning her, do we get to go into the interrogation room?" Lizzy jumped up on her seat. "Are we going to arrest someone?"

"God Lizzy, no. We're just talking to her."

"Wow," Lizzy deadpanned, "your job is fun."

"Although frankly," Darcy continued, "it's odd. Perhaps we will get to go into the interrogation room after all."

Lizzy made a brief fist pump just before they arrived at the building. Darcy flashed a badge and walked with purpose while Lizzy made a show of all the attractive-looking people in suits.

"Lizzy, stop being ridiculous."

"But it's pretty. And it smells nice in here."

"Yes, that would be the lack of dead bodies." They reached his office, where a mousy-looking woman was waiting.

"Now listen Lizzy, I brought you because I'm just that glorious of a person. But you need to be quiet, this is my specialty here."

"Fine, fine." They walked into the room.

"Hello Mrs. Collins, how are you?"

"Where's my husband, I want to see my husband." She jumped up. "We need to give him a proper burial."

"I'm sorry, we can't release his body yet." Said Darcy. The woman slumped over.

"Mrs. Collins, can I talk to you about you and your husband's relationship?"

"Oh, Bill was the sweetest man. Why, he would never hurt a fly. I just can't believe he's dead." She wiped a tear from her eye, Darcy handed her a tissue box.

"See, Mrs. Collins, the only reason we ask is that there wasn't anything in Bill Collins' file that indicated he was married."

"Oh, that. Well, you see, he had just gotten divorced and he didn't want to get married again so soon. We were going to get married, but, well, it just didn't happen." She made a show of weeping softly into the tissue Darcy had provided her. Darcy glanced at Lizzy.

"Mrs. Collins, is there anyone who would want to hurt your husband, anything odd that happened recently, anything that could lead us to your husbands killer?"

"Oh no, like I said, he wouldn't hurt a fly." She stood up. "Look, I'm sorry Agent Darcy, but I have an appointment that I just have to get to. You understand."

"Of course madam. Thank you for your time."

"Of course." Mrs. Collins dipped quickly then left the room, leaving Lizzy and Darcy utterly confused.

"Well, she sure got out of here quickly." Said Darcy.

"That was…amazing. Where did you learn how to do that?"

"Please. I'm the one with people skills, remember?" He smiled, Lizzy scoffed.


	8. A Mildly Unfortunate Event

**Author's Note: To celebrate the end of AP US, here's a longer-ish chapter. And I apologize for the massive amounts of dialogue, I'm attempting to write a screenplay of sorts and it's just the frame of mind I'm in. Best wishes!**

"There's something really weird about that Charlotte character." Darcy tossed the ball of rubber bands into the air. He was leaning back in his chair, playing catch with himself in the way that one only does when they have important things to think about.

"I know what you mean." Lizzy replied. They were sitting in Darcy's office. It was typical of bureaucratic workers like Darcy, sparse and clean. There were some assorted pictures of him meeting famous people in politics, and a few books sat on the floor. Otherwise, the room could have belonged to almost anyone.

"Really, you understand human emotion too? Impressive." He caught the ball.

"Yes, ha ha, you are hysterical. The crown jewel of the bloody FBI."

"Glad you think so."

"Ugh, has anyone ever told you that your skull has swollen to the size of a small watermelon? You should probably see someone about that."

"Well, according to you, it used to be a large one. I must be getting better."

"Yes, and I must get back to the lab and, seeing as how you have practically confiscated my car, you are fully responsible for getting me back."

"I thought you enjoyed the beauty of the FBI, the lack of formaldehyde and all."

"Nah, I'm starting to miss the smell. Can we go?"

"Yeah, sure. One second." Darcy pulled out his phone and answered it.

"Hello….yes…I just spoke to…really…ok…I'll be there in a minute…bye. Hey Lizzy? Quick detour." She stomped her feet.

"What now?"

"New body."

"Oh." Said Lizzy, her face clearing. "Well, I guess that's all right."

They got into the car. It was a nice day out, one of those beautiful ones in early spring where everything seems to just come back to life. The cherry trees were blooming and the leaves were coming back. The cyclists and joggers that had gone into hibernation over the past couple months were out again, breathing in the warm air. Lizzy rolled down the window, hoping for some sun to shine down on her, to make her feel less homesick.

"God, what are you doing?"

"Rolling the window down. Are you seriously complaining?"

"Yes."

"But it's pretty out!"

"Lizzy."

"Fine," she rolled the window up. "What are you, allergic to air?"

"Something like that."

They arrived at the site of the body a few minutes later, the sun still shining and Darcy still looking miffed. He went to speak to the state trooper that had been keeping track of the body, made a few gruff looking nods, and walked over to Lizzy. She was standing over the body. Darcy rubbed his hands together. Despite the warm air, it was still nippy out.

"So, should we take her back to the lab, identify her, see if she's related and all that jazz?"

"Well yes," said Lizzy, kneeling down by the body. "But there's no need to identify her, and she's quite obviously involved.

"What do you mean?"

"Wait," said Lizzy, standing up and staring at Darcy, "you don't recognize her?"

"She is dead and covered in blood. Am I supposed to?"

"Ok, I'll give you a hint. She…"

"Lizzy," Darcy interrupted, "we don't have time for this."

"Right, well, it's Mrs. Collins."

Darcy turned his head, squinting at the body. "Fair enough." Motioning to the lab techs scurrying about, he signaled the need to bring the body back to the lab. Lizzy and Darcy got back into the car so they could meet the body when it arrived.

"I still don't understand how you're so used to the whole dead people thing. You're so calm about it, almost terrifyingly calm." Said Darcy.

"Guess I'm just used to it. The same way you got used to shooting people in the military or talking to crazy people."

"Hey, I didn't actually shoot that many people."

"Oh please, there's no need. You've killed people, I can accept that." Darcy was silent.

"It's not a particularly bad thing," said Lizzy. "I mean, I've killed someone and I'm sure you did it for the right rea…"

"Wait, you've killed someone?"

"Yeah."

"How exactly are you so blasé about it? Can you teach me not to care?"

"Darcy, it was just one of those things that you end up having to do."

"I'm going to make the jump that you don't want to talk about it." Lizzy was silent for a few minutes.

"When I was sixteen, a year after the whole…yeah, Jane and I were walking around downtown. It was late and dark and I just got this weird feeling in my spine, you know? Like you can just tell that something really bad is going to happen. So I nudged Jane, she must have gotten the same feeling, and we ran back to the house. Jane was over 18 so we never went into foster….ok, so we ran back to the house, it wasn't too far, and bolted the door. Lydia was asleep upstairs, and we were the only three in the house. Violet had gone home…Darcy, stop staring. I'm telling a story and your questions can wait. Anyway, Violet had gone home and it was just the three of us. Jane went up to bed, but I said I was going to stay up to make a cup of tea. The weird tingly feeling hadn't gone away yet and I wasn't sure what to do, so I stayed up. Dad had always kept guns in a cupboard in the living room; we still hadn't gotten around to cleaning things up. Guess we still harbored the feeling that they would come back but again, a story for another time. So there I sat, next to the guns, drinking tea and freaking out. And then there was a knock on the door. I tensed up, scared to make a sound. Then the door burst open. It was a massive man, dressed all in black. I hadn't ever met him before and, before I knew what I was doing, I shot him." She was silent again. Finally, she said, "I still don't know whether I did the right thing." Darcy looked at her.

"I'm sure you did the right thing. This man broke into your house. You went with your intuition. You did the right thing." Lizzy looked over at him.

"Thanks for that." Darcy smiled.

"No problem."

Lizzy walked into the lab. It was oddly silent without Jane around. All of the sounds that usually clamed Lizzy, the clicking of her heels down the hallway, the clanking of the instruments in the autopsy room, the whirring of the mass spec, now edged in on her subconscious, telling her of a danger that was supposedly there. Darcy sat in the, for lack of a better word, waiting area. She was glad he was there. Despite every intuition she had grown up with, she felt safer with him around. There was something about having an incredibly tall, incredibly strong man around that made everything seem like it was going to be all right.

There was something about Charlotte's body that was different from all the rest. The body had the blood and gashes of the other ones, the same marks of strangulation, but there was a different aura about the body. And, as much as Lizzy hated the soft and intuition-y parts of science, there was something about this body that she couldn't ignore. Then she found it.

"Darcy!" Lizzy shrieked. He ran in.

"What's wrong?" he said, sliding into the room. Lizzy was holding a pair of tweezers. The tweezers were holding a small shard of metal, what looked to be steel.

"Really?" Darcy said. "You shrieked because you found some metal?"

"This isn't just metal, I found it in the strangulation line. We thought that a normal rope must have strangled them, but we didn't find any fibers. Instead we found those nicks, remember?" Darcy nodded. "Well, we thought those nicks were from someone pulling each of the fibers out, but steel cable can also leave those nicks."

"So, what you're saying is that someone choked these people with steel cable?"

"Yeah, but the best part? You won't guess, so I'll just tell you. This particular gauge and make is only available through the military, which means that our killer has access to military grade weaponry. I think that ought to narrow down the search." Darcy hugged Lizzy.

"You know, you're bloody brilliant." Lizzy smiled, but it turned to a frown at the figure barreling through the door.

"Elizabeth, how have you not found anything yet? We've been working on this case for much too long for you to just be nowhere. I have half a mind to fire you, had we not spent such a fortune attempting to cultivate you into something worthwhile. You're an embarrassment. You recent cases have been lackluster at best, and your damn sister can't even show up for work. You're a poor example of a scientist if there ever was one." Hamilton spun on his heel, making to leave the room. Darcy grabbed his shoulder, eyes blazing.

"Listen," Darcy snarled, "I don't know who you are or why you think that you have the right to even think words like that, but Elizabeth is one of the best scientists the world will ever see. She just made a break in the case that you wouldn't have seen had it jumped up and bitten you on the ass. You can be assured that you'll face certain dire consequences from the higher powers if you even think like that again." Removing his hand from Hamilton's shoulder, he said, "I think you were just about leaving, weren't you." Hamilton humphed but, seeing that the giant in the suit had bested him, turned on his heel and walked away. Darcy turned to Lizzy and, seeing the tears in her eyes, sat down next to where she had collapsed on the floor. He wrapped his hand around her shoulders.

"Are you functional?"

"He's right. I am an embarra…" she choked back tears, "an embarrassment. I can't even function. How many people do I actually help? I sit here in my lab just looking at dead bodies. I should be out curing cancer or saving people from TB. Instead I just sit her in an expensive lab with shiny equipment." Her head fell onto Darcy's shoulder. "I'm a failure." Darcy stroked her hair as she cried.

"You aren't a failure. You're beautiful and brilliant and perfect, and you've saved more lives than most can even hope to." They sat on the floor for the longest while, Lizzy crying and Darcy pondering the best way for revenge.

Lizzy came in the next morning, bleary eyed and exhausted. She had barely slept at all last night, even after Darcy had driven her home and forced her into pajamas and bed. She had stayed up analyzing every aspect of the case. She couldn't be a failure; she had made it too far for that. She had traced the exact gauge of military wire to a covert operations army branch and, with the help of Darcy, she would soon be in possession of a list of people who had access to that wire and who were currently at home. She had tried to sleep, eventually passing out in her living room with an open copy of _Wuthering Heights._ It always bored her to sleep.

She walked into the lab, yawning and holding a chai latte. Despite the lack of caffeine, it had always managed to be the one thing that could always wake her up. She hadn't quite taken her typical care with getting ready this morning. Her unwashed hair was up in a chopstick bun, her makeup minimal and grooming almost non-existent. She wore a pair of jeans and an old and too-big button-down with a belt tied haphazardly around her waist. She wore ballet flats, the clicking of her typical heels had become too much to bear. She yawned again, taking the final sip of her sugary concoction and making the final steps toward her lab. A clearing of the throat behind her snapped her out of her reverie. She turned. An impeccably dressed woman sat behind her. She was one of the skirt suit types, this particular one a charcoal gray. She was older, but had the perfect makeup and hair that easily shaved ten to twenty years off of her actual age. It could have been the plastic surgery, but Lizzy didn't really care.

"Hello. You are Mrs.?"

"De Bourgh, Mrs. Catherine De Bourgh. Unfortunately, we don't quite meet on the best of circumstances." The woman stood. "I take it you are Ms. Elizabeth?" Lizzy nodded. "Yes, well, I oversee the trust that pays for the lab. Unfortunately, Mr. Hamilton has been relieved of his responsibilities here, and I am to oversee said responsibilities until a replacement can be found. I hope we can keep the" she looked down at Lizzy's attire, "professionalism at the highest level. It was nice to meet you Ms. Bennet." Mrs. De Bourgh turned on her heel and walked out, Lizzy stunned at the confidence the woman possessed. She shrugged it off and walked into the autopsy room where the three stooges had been left yesterday.

"Lizzy." She jumped.

"Good lord, there has to be a better way of announcing your presence than jumping out of the shadows."

"Sorry," Darcy said. "Why was Catherine out there? I thought she didn't take such a personal influence in such matters."

"Well, Hamilton got fired and she's jus here until they find a replacement. Wait, how did you know who she was? And what matters?" Darcy looked uncomfortable.

"Well, she's…you know…family. And she runs the trust thing. And I sort of, well, asked her for a favor."

"Darcy, did you ask her to fire Hamilton?" He looked guilty. "Darcy, I can't believe you would do something like that. It's one thing to want to protect me, but I can take care of myself here."

"Lizzy, did you listen to what the man was saying? He's verbally abusive and he broke numerous codes on the treatment of employees. He had to be dealt with."

"Dealt with? That's a man's life you just ruined." Darcy closed his mind to her, his face becoming smooth as stone.

"Well, I'm sorry you don't agree with the outcome, but it had to be done." Lizzy lowered her eyes from his gaze.

"I can't believe you brought your big bad mommy in to deal with my issues. It was unnecessary and…not right."

"Lizzy, my mother's dead. Unless you have anything constructive, I'm leaving now." She was silent, he turned and left. Lizzy looked at the bodies.

"You guys have it easy." She said, almost envying their position. They didn't respond.


	9. A Doctor's Visit

Lizzy walked into Dr. Gardiner's office bleary eyed and exhausted. The nightmares were coming back more and more, but they now contained a woman in a grey pantsuit. The woman would grow horns and dance around while Lizzy sat there drowning in blood. And the hand would come to save her, but it was always too late. And then she woke up. She tried not to think about it as a metaphor for her life, alas, her overactive brain couldn't help but make the comparison.

She sat in the waiting room, perusing the back issues of magazines that waiting rooms always seemed to have. Settling on a copy of _Popular Science_ that Lizzy speculated was placed there for her, she sat back in her chair. She was the only one in the room, aside from the overly perky receptionist. The other doctor was on vacation that week.

Lizzy flipped through the pages of the magazine, but she wasn't truly reading it. She closed her eyes, attempting to calm herself down, but it wasn't quite working. There was something oddly calming about the room at first glance, but it was too calm. It was the way something was calm before the hurricane came and obliterated everything. The drops from the fountain fell too regularly; the typing that came from the receptionist's desk was too loud. Even Lizzy, tapping her foot, felt too calm, too regular in her motion. She stopped her own foot, but her toes were itching to bounce up and down again. They were craving movement. They were…

"Lizzy." She looked up. Dr. Gardiner was waiting in the doorway. "I'm ready for you now."

Dr. Gardiner was a petite woman with a penchant for wrap dresses and espadrilles. She had short auburn hair that was usually unwashed, uncombed, or some combination of the two. She was on the crunchy side, but it worked. Today's dress was white eyelet; the shoes wedge heels with white laces. She was casual enough. It was the only way Lizzy could bear to see a therapist.

Dr. Gardiner was a trained psychiatrist, but she preferred to stay away from heavy medications. Not that she relied on herbal supplements or anything of the sort; she just preferred to talk you into a stupor before plying you with medication. Lizzy followed her into the office, sitting on the requisite leather couch and leaning her head on the armrest. She lay on her side, curling herself into a ball and preparing herself for today's onslaught of questions. Dr. Gardiner sat in a chair opposite her. She sat briefly, then got up. She came back a few minutes later bearing a chai latte and a mug of coffee. She passed the chai to Lizzy, who sat up to the smell of the stuff. She gulped eagerly, Dr. Gardiner sipping quaintly.

"Now," she said. "What's wrong?"

"Well, aside from the fact that my life's gone completely to hell, there's the case I cant solve and I have a pimple for the first time in six years. So, I'm just peachy keen."

"What do you mean a case YOU can't solve? Where's Jane?"

"Jane is…otherwise occupied." Lizzy relayed the story of Caroline's body, Bingley's dismissal, and Jane's subsequent desire to nurture.

"So," the doctor replied, "that explains the pimple. You're stressed. Do you want to talk to Jane about the fact that she isn't coming in? Why do you think she isn't?"

"Jane's been in love with Bingley since the beginning of eternity. Back when we first did a case with the two of them, she was all over him. It's not like I blame her. I mean, he's adorable. And their kids would be cute. They'd be ginger, but they would be cute. And Jane's a couple years older than me and she's really thinking about having a family and all. She knows that she wants kids. I sort of envy her, the ability to see the cuteness in everything and all that. I tend to look at children as small demons that haven't yet learned how to mask themselves."

"Do you want these small demons? Children, that is."

"On some level. There's a part of me that doesn't want to bring someone or multiple someones into this world. The things I've seen…I can't imagine truly wanting to bring something so small and pure into a world where those things happen. For them to hear those things, see those things, feel the repercussions of those things." She lay down. "Sometimes I wish I wasn't here, I wish my parents hadn't let me into this broken world."

"So you see a broken world?"

"I want to fix it. But there's so much evil out there, it's hard to see even the faintest glimmer of good, you know? The doctor nodded. "I just…I don't know. I guess that's why I want to be more like Jane, I want to be able to see the good in things."

"So take a break." Lizzy sat up.

" What?"

"Take a break. From your job. You want to be able to see the good in people, in the world. To do that, you need to leave your little bubble of death and go outside. Perhaps the reason Jane can still see the good is because she takes the breaks to enjoy the good."

"I can't exactly haul anchor and take a vacation. We're in the middle of a case."

"So wait until you're done with the case. Speaking of it, let's talk about it."

"Well, it sucks. Since Jane's on 'vacation', I have to pull twice the weight. And our boss just got fired, so this horrible woman got hired and…"

"I thought you hated your boss."

"Yeah, he was an ass, and he broke way too many employee treatment codes, but he didn't have to get fired."

"Why are you defending him if he treated you so poorly?"

"Guilt? I don't know, he did get fired because of me."

"How so?"

"He was critiquing my work or something like that, and Darcy overheard and got him fired."

"Darcy, the agent you're working with? How did he get involved?"

"Yeah, he overheard, lodged a complaint, and now someone in his family is my boss."

"How does that make you feel?"

"It makes me feel like shit."

"Care to elaborate?" Lizzy was silent for a few minutes.

"I don't like that he has that kind of power. He works in his environment. You should see him question people. He's brilliant in his field and I'm fine with that. But the lab is mine, and he just comes in and flips the place around. And now that whoever-she-is is my boss? It's like he's controlling me. Like I'm under his thumb."

"Are you?"

"I guess. Sort of. There's something about him, some quality that makes you just want to help the guy out. Like he's some poor sick, albeit incredibly attractive puppy that you just want to take home and help."

"Let's focus on the incredibly attractive part." Lizzy laughed.

"Oh you should see the guy. He has this dark, floppy hair, perfect for running your fingers through. And his eyes. They flash and glow and glint and sparkle. They're the clearest blue you've ever seen. And he's tall and skinny, but not too skinny. That perfect, odd muscular skinny, like…what's his name…Angel."

"Do you love him?"

"No, of course not. We're friends, partners."

"Then I think you need to think about the fact that he may just be trying to help you. If he saw you being treated poorly and came in to save the day, it's not a capital offense."

"I can take care of myself."

"And I'm sure you can, but he was just trying to help you."

"That's what he said about last time."

"Last time? I'm afraid we'll have to save last time till next session. But you did really well today Lizzy. I'm proud." The women stood, shaking hands. Lizzy left the office, wandering back to her car, still exhausted. She got in and began the drive to the lab. These early morning sessions were a bitch.

She walked into the cadaver room, snapping on her gloves.

"Nothing like the smell of formaldehyde in the morning." Lizzy ran toward the voice.

"Jane! God, I've missed you. How's Bingley?"

"Adorable."

"JANE!"

"All right, God. He's coping. He started seeing a therapist, a Doctor Gardiner. From what I've heard, she sounds alright." Lizzy gulped.

"Yeah, I've heard good things about her. So, have you caught up on our little friends over here?"

"Yeah, the husband-wife combo platter with a sister to go. It's weird though."

"What's weird?"

"I feel like I know these people, like we've met at some point. Like there's some personal connection. Obviously, there's that connection with Bingley, and I could swear I've met these people before. It feels like there's some connection, you know?"

"Not quite, but I understand."

"Good enough. So, the military cable, how far are we with that?"

"Darcy got a list of all of the people who have access to that type of cable. I believe it's only accessible to SEAL teams, which should narrow the playing field quite a lot."

"Awesome. A serial murderer Navy SEAL. That's gonna be a party."


	10. A New Beginning

**Thought I'd give you a present for the tenth chapter. Happy readings and best wishes!**

_The lights flashed, whirling and spinning in front of her. She tried to run toward them, desperate to see them one last time. She was crying, terrified. The men held her back. They said she couldn't go any farther. They said she couldn't see them. They said it wasn't anything for a young girl to see. She pleaded with them, told them that she would do anything, but the men without faces wouldn't let her. They said she had to be taken away, that there were people that had to speak to her, that, maybe, she might finally be all right again. They hesitated to tell her what happened, but they had taken pity on the poor creature falling to pieces in front of them. She crumpled to her knees when they finally told her. She wailed, she was distraught. She should have been there, been there for them, for all of them. She was crying; she couldn't help it. It was all her fault._

"It's still weird that you think you know these people."

Lizzy and Jane sat in the lab, poring over the pictures and results they had pulled from the bodies. Jane had been working on rendering a three-dimensional model of the murders, Lizzy helping to input the data. In moments like this, Lizzy couldn't help but be impressed by the pure intelligence and goodness her sister wielded. She had gone trough medical school, spent way too much time in school accumulating way too many degrees, helped thousands by working in her humanitarian efforts. She lobbied for pharmaceutical companies to lower their prices and help the millions that died from treatable diseases every year. She donated her time, efforts, and funds to help those in need. She programmed code in her spare time; she had helped her high school robotics team take the prize in the FIRST Robotics Competition. She still had time to go to the gym. Lizzy wasn't sure if it was just sisterly admiration or legitimized awe, but Lizzy was sure that Jane was quite possibly one of the best, most brilliant people on the face of the planet.

Lizzy looked at her sister, who was steadily typing and scanning images into the duel screen set-up she had in her office. Jane's office was the absolute opposite of her sister's. The floor was the same cold tile that covered the floor of the rest of the lab. She too had the vast bookshelves that Lizzy had, but Jane's were of glass and chrome. Her desk was massive, edging an entire wall. Two giant computer screens sat upon it, surrounded by the papers and pictures related to the current case. Screens lined the walls, all of which had some variation of programming designed by Jane. She said it provided a hobby for her, tinkering with electronics. Besides, she always laughed when she said this, computers don't bleed.

Lizzy wished she could have the same sort of outlook on everything. Perhaps Doctor Gardiner was right.

"Jane?"

"Yeah, what's up?" She turned from the computer.

"How do you stay so happy?" Jane laughed.

"What do you mean?"

"How do you stay so happy? How does this not affect you?"

"It does affect me. It affects me more than I want it too. That's why I do all of these other things, playing with computers and screens and all that other crap. I need to distance myself from it all. It helps to just get your mind out of this for a while. I honestly thought that it never affected you. You always seemed so strong."

"Oh please. It torments me. I have nightmares of all the horrible things we see each and every day. I started seeing a therapist just to try to deal with it all. But I can't." A tear trickled down her cheek. "I just can't anymore."

"Oh sweetie." Jane stood, enveloping Lizzy in her arms. They stood there for a moment, Lizzy bawling and Jane stroking her hair. Lizzy pulled away, wiping away the makeup running down her cheeks.

"Thanks for that. God, it's like you're my mom."

"Excuse me! I prefer extremely young and attractive sister, thank you very much." Lizzy laughed. "Besides, someone has to be there for you." The sisters were silent for a moment, then Jane smiled. "Now, care to help me work on some models?"

"I think I could muster that." The two sisters sat, working through the next couple of hours until they had a model of the chain of events that had taken place.

"Ugh, it's gross, ain't it?"

"Darcy, when did you get here?" Lizzy asked.

"I just hang around. You have some nice couches out there."

"You disgust me."

"I'm delighted."

"Oh, chill out. The both of you." Jane said. "You're like children."

"Pretty much," Darcy said, smiling. "So, the model?"

"Yeah, of course. Looking at blood spatter, broken bones, and assorted wounds and injuries on the body, we can determine exactly how Bill died."

"Please don't call him Bill Lizzy, he was a person."

"Fine Darcy, ugh. Anyway," Lizzy narrated the events as they were played in the model. "The victim was struck from behind, the metal cable wrapped around his neck. His thyroid was crushed. He flailed around a bit until he passed out from lack of oxygen. Then, most likely with his heart still beating, he was drained of his blood. It was then that he died. The assailant cut his legs and other parts of his body, poured blood upon them, and left the body in the room where it was found a few days later, approximately three of them. We can say with some degree of certainty that the same thing happened to Caroline, or Victim 2 as Darcy so insists. However, she was left for far fewer days, perhaps less than one. Blood spatter and any sort of diagnostic test we can run prove this to be accurate. We have yet to determine how Victim three died, but the model should be up in a couple of days. Jane has already started it."

"They were alive?" Darcy asked.

"Yes, humans are, for the most part, alive at some point in time."

"They were bled out, like animals."

"Yes."

"This is revolting."

"Yes."

"Please stop agreeing with me."

"Yes…no…ok." Darcy left the room. Lizzy sat. Jane motioned for her to follow Darcy. Lizzy obliged.

"What's wrong?" She asked.

"I know who's doing this."

"What?"

"Or at least I've got a connection."

"Again I exclaim…what? How, who?"

"A George Wickham. He was there when my father died. It was how my father died."

"Darcy, I'm so sorry."

"How it's happened has haunted me for years. They never solved exactly how it happened." He waited a moment. "I knew Wickham had something to do with it."

"I thought he'd been shot. He was holding a gun."

"Yeah, but there were the same lacerations, the same incisions where the blood must have left. Of course, this has to come back. Now." Lizzy put her arm around Darcy.

"Darcy, we'll figure this out, we'll catch whoever did this to Bill, Caroline, to your father. Don't worry. Everything will work out. I promise."

"Lizzy, you can't promise that. Not to me. I know how this system works. The case back then was dropped because they couldn't find anything. The killer was immaculate. There weren't prints, fibers, hairs. There wasn't anything that could link us to a possible killer. I know you're brilliant, but this is one case you can't solve Lizzy. No one can solve it." They were both silent for a moment.

"Do you know why I wanted to become a…well…whatever I am?" he shook his head. "I had always been proficient in science and maths back in England, and I had flirted with the idea of being some sort of scientist, you know, the one who finds the cure for cancer. When we moved here, I was thirteen. I was moody and petulant and a pretty terrible person to be around. My grades dropped in everything except science. I started fighting in school and racked up more detentions than anyone should be proud of. No one could really communicate with me. I dyed my hair black and walked around in a permanent hissy fit. It was pretty horrible. I pushed everyone I knew away from me. My parents, Jane, anyone I could have called my friends. I turned into an isolationist. I barely left my room except to go on those long walks where you just sit and ponder and look emo. I was fifteen. It was late spring. It was warm and pretty and I didn't feel like I was a part of it. I sat down on a park bench and just sat there. It must have been for hours. Of course, this was before the days when pre-schoolers had cell phones, so I had no idea what had happened. When I finally went home, it was after dark and all I could see were the flashing lights. They were outside my house. I wanted to go in, but the police wouldn't let me. They wouldn't even let me see Jane. She was the only one left.

I don't know if you know this, but I used to have three sisters in addition to Jane. Mary, Kitty and Lydia. Mary was twelve, Kitty was nine, and Lydia was just six." Lizzy wiped a tear from her eye. "I'm sorry about this. My dad was an ambassador for the U.N. He worked down in D.C. for diplomatic reasons. He had been working on a fairly controversial project that year. He'd gotten death threats. And, they came through. The police speculated that an extremist group had come. The bodies were found. Five of them. I was fifteen, and Jane was the only one I had left. I love Jane and I love my life, but there isn't a day that goes by where I don't wish that I had never left the house that day. Every fucking day. All I wish was that I had been there with them. Maybe then, something might have changed." Lizzy began to cry, slumping against the wall and falling onto Darcy's shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her, and they sat there, crying in their own misfortune. "They never truly figured out who it was, who did this to my family. Who made it so I didn't have a family anymore. I can't let that happen to other people. I have to help

"Let me take you home." Darcy said. Lizzy nodded before burying her head into his shoulder. He walked her to his car.

"I knew, you know that, right?"

"Yeah, I was sure you had read the file. I just wanted to have you hear it from me. I can't talk about that with too many people. It helps that you're there." They arrived at Lizzy apartment, Lizzy whimpering a bit and flopping onto a couch. Darcy went into the kitchen, pulling things about and clattering around. He showed up a few minutes later, holding an omelet and a couple beers.

"How did you know?"

"What, that beer is delicious? College taught me that one."

"Omelets. Whenever I was upset, my dad would make me one."

"Lucky guess. Or it must have fallen out of Jane at some point." He sat down next to her. She tore into the omelet, he sipped one of the beers next to her. They talked about the case for a bit, the supply of beers slowly dwindling as Lizzy finished her food and began to help Darcy out. He told jokes, she laughed. They were like friends. But he fell silent for a moment before finally speaking.

"Lizzy. I can't do this anymore." He looked at her, eyes glowing and dancing.

"Can't do what anymore?"

"Not do this." He pressed his lips to hers. Her hands grabbed his back, pulling herself into his chest. They frantically clung together, hands grasping and reaching. He stood, lifting her, lips still connected. He carried her to the bedroom. She pulled his shirt off, removing her lips from his for the first time to stare at the impeccable physical specimen in front of her. She knew that Darcy would be attractive, but attractive was an understatement. She had guessed that he would be skinny and he was, but the muscles on him were perfectly formed. He was pale to be sure, but his skin was perfect and unblemished save for a long, thin scar running down his side. His cheeks were pink; completely appropriate given the situation they found themselves in. His hair was mussed, but still beautiful in that bed head sort of way. She was close to laughing at the little bits sticking up all around his head. And his eyes; they sparkled in a way that nothing had ever sparkled before. The only thing Lizzy felt was lust, a yearning desire to be close to this man, to become one with him. He had that affect on her, on her heart, even on her supposedly rational brain. She removed her own shirt and, pressing her body against his, resumed the dance they had begun.


	11. A Twist of Citron

"Well, hello there."

"Mmph." Lizzy responded to the voice coming from beside her. She buried her head under a pillow, determined to make the noises go away.

"I suspected as much." The voice said in reply. She threw a pillow at the source. "Oh, I see how it is." A pillow smacked her in the head. She shot up, openmouthed.

"Oh, it's on." She grabbed a pillow, whacking the source of the voice with all her might. A hand grabbed out, grasping her ankle and yanking her back to the bed. She fell, laughing. The body crawled up over hers, kissing her passionately. She pushed the head away. "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"The name's Cailean."

"And how exactly did you end up in my bed?"

"You don't remember?" Lizzy snuggled closer to the body.

"Perhaps you'll remind me in that delicious accent of yours."

"Scotland does tend to produce them, yes."

"You're Scottish, I'm English. It works."

"I wouldn't exactly say you had an accent. I can't say I would have guessed. "

"They wanted me to hide it, affirmative action doesn't exactly go for the Brits. But I can do it when I want."

"Prove it." The man smiled.

"Fine then, I will speak in the clean British tongue to try and make up for your abomination. But I'd appreciate it if you told me how we met."

"Very well then. I, in all of my Scottish fabulous, was feeling blue and went to a bar to drink my sorrows away. And, lo and behold, I found what I now know is a lovely English woman has beaten me to my favorite spot on the bar. I, of course, intervened and told the woman how she had wronged me and merely suggested how she might make it up to me. You, perhaps with a few too many of what you had been drinking, readily agreed. And, we ended up here."

"So, I've never met you before, I slept with you, and we then had a less than substantial pillow fight?"

"Quite right my dear."

"Bad Lizzy." She murmured to herself, kicking the man when he murmured agreement. "What time is it?"

"About 10:30."

"On a Thursday?"

"Yes, that seems about right."

"Ok, man who is inexplicably in my apartment, you need to get yourself and your fabulous accent out of my bed as I have to get to work."

"Of course." They two flew about, Lizzy frantically trying the get herself cleaned up in a semi-reasonable time. If she was at the lab by 11:15 or so, there was a chance that no one would notice. Grayskull, her new nickname for Mrs. De Bourgh, usually didn't show up until about noon. Jane was always there early, but she would understand. She shook her hair out; she would have to do without a blow dryer today.

She pulled on a pair of well-worn jeans, a tank top, and a navy blazer. She felt like she should at least throw on the allure of being mildly professional. She walked out into the kitchen, where a cup of coffee and a note were waiting for her.

_Dearest London,_

_ Last night was brilliant. I only wish it could have continued into the morning, perhaps until the night. I hope to see you again as soon as possible. If you feel the same, meet me at Citronelle at 8:30. _

_Scotland_

Lizzy did a quick victory dance; perhaps the night's drunken hookup would work out. Despite the fact that she had imagined it was Darcy, Scotland was memorable in his own right. And Citronelle! She had only been a few times, mostly in stuffy events thrown by the museum. But she always remembered the food as utterly fabulous. She looked at the clock, 11:08. She ran to her car, and drove to the lab as fast as possible.

It was 11:14 when she pulled into the parking lot at the lab. She praised the foresight she had to find an apartment near her place of employment and ran into the building. She threw her stuff in her office, grabbed a pair of the ever-present gloves, and walked into the autopsy room. Jane was standing over the bodies, just looking. She had that furrowed brow that seemed ever present on Lizzy.

"Hey Jane."

"Where have you been?"

"Sleeping."

"With who?"

"JANE!"

"Oh come on, you think I can't tell? No one else is here, spill."

"Well, I don't remember much of it, but from what he told me, he went to the same bar as me, and we just got to talking. "

"Was he hot?"

"Oh, he is an attractive one."

"HA."

"What?"

"You're going to see him again, are you seeing him tonight?"

"How did you even?"

"You said he IS attractive. I win at life. Where's he taking you?"

"…"

"Lizzy, I am your sister, I demand you answer me."

"Citronelle." Jane emitted a little squeal, tore her gloves off and ran to hug her sister."

"You bagged a rich one Lizzy, think how proud she would be."

"Yes, I'm sure. Mummy dearest would be ecstatic. He's Scottish too."

"Does he have a pretty accent?"

"Very pretty."

"You can talk about all sorts of British-y things. Oh this is exciting. Are you going to speak with your accent?"

"I'm tempted. I hate this bloody American one." After the whole thing with her family, the investigators had told them that they would do best to try to adopt an American accent. They had also had to dye their hair and it had been recommended that they try to change as much as possible, some even recommending plastic surgery. Jane had declined but Lizzy had always entertained the idea of a chin reconstruction. She ended up going with a bit of liposuction; she had hated being that pudgy teenager.

"Jane, are you sure that no one else is here?"

"Absolutely, why?"

"There is something weird about what happened last night and I need to bounce some of my ideas off of you."

"Fair enough, go ahead."

"So this guy, Cailean, he's pretty and awesome and all, but last night, I had this dream that I slept with Darcy."

"What?"

"Exactly, I mean, I'm supposed to hate the guy and here I am, dreaming if having sex with him. It was so real, which makes quite a bit more sense when you figure that I was actually sleeping with someone at the time. And I was supposedly quite drunk at the time, so there's that. But, it's the weirdest thing. I can't even."

"Do you actually want to sleep with Darcy?"

"I don't know."

"Have you talked to Dr. Gardiner about it yet?"

"Wait, how did you know about her?"

"Lizzy, I'm your sister. I'm capable of basic understanding. It makes sense. Come on, give me a little credit."

"Fair enough. But help me!"

"Well, you now have a pretty boyfriend who's taking you to Citronelle. I wouldn't spend too much time worrying about it. It's always something you can pursue later if you feel the need. But, just so you know, it's almost noon. Perhaps some work is in order?"

"Ugh, fine. Darcy said that there was that lead. There really isn't anything too solid, but we should look at him."

"Yes, the sister who's been here for the past four hours has done work. I ran his name through the database, but nothing came up. And I mean nothing. I had the FBI run him through the federal, then the international. There is absolutely no match for a George Wickham that could have had any contact with Darcy."

"International?"

"Yeah, Darcy's Scottish. We thought we might get a match if we ran the name outside of the U.S."

"Weird."

"Why?"

"No reason."

"Fair enough, I'll tell Darcy."

"No need, I'm here." He was standing in the doorway."

"Seriously, announcing your presence is always nice. Come on."

"Sorry. So, no match?"

"Absolutely nothing. If you'll excuse me, I need to go run some info on the models." Jane left.

"Wait, so you're Scottish?" Lizzy asked.

"Yeah, why?"

"No particular reason, I just always imagined you as some blue blood from Connecticut or Long Island."

"Nope, a full blooded Scot."

"No accent."

"You don't have one either Lizzy, it's really not that uncommon to be rid of them when you move to the states."

"Can you still speak in it?"

"Of course," he replied in what Lizzy could only assume was his natural voice. "But it's not really that big of a deal."

"Oh, you sound like David Tennant."

"I'll take that compliment, my mum always wanted me to be a doctor."

"Yes, wit, it's hysterical."

"I like to think so."

"How come you never told me?"

"It never came up."

"You still haven't told me all too much about yourselves. Your hopes, dreams, desires."

"Well Lizzy, the thing is, there's been a murder."

"No, you did not just do that."

"What?"

"Taggart? Seriously? You are so Scottish." Lizzy gave a small squeal. "The Scots are bloody brilliant."

"Are you allowed to say that?"

"Yeah, you're part of the empire. You're fine."

"Hey!"

"God, we are so British."

"Yeah, so you know, the murder?" Darcy returned to his American accent.

"We can talk about it on the sole condition that you never speak in an American accent again."

"Fair enough."

"Awesome. So, we ran George Wickham through the assorted databases and nothing came up."

"What do you mean by nothing?"

"I mean nothing. No visas, citizenships, paperwork. No phone records no employment records, nothing rented. There is absolutely no evidence that this man ever existed."

"Of course. That's why."

"What?"

"Nothing. Great job Lizzy, but I have to go." He walked out of the room.

"But I didn't find anything!"

"Doesn't matter!"

"Wow, this is beautiful." Lizzy had just arrived at Citronelle with Cailean, resounding in wonder at their surroundings. She had been worried that she wouldn't be able to get out of the lab in time to make the date, but Jane had covered for her. Darcy hadn't returned from wherever he had gone off too and Grayskull hadn't ever come in. Jane had snuck out and grabbed a dress for Lizzy, saying that it was her duty as a big sister. Lizzy had been wary about wearing it, but when she had seen Cailean's face, she had known it was the correct decision. It was something tight and red from Valentino, with thin straps and a slight v cut down the front. It hit just above the knee and Jane forced her to borrow a pair of Louboutin sling backs. Jane had pulled Lizzy's hair into some intricate twist with small tendrils framing her face. A platinum chain dripped down her chest, a tiny heart dangling from the end. Cailean was wearing a white button down and a light grey suit, his blond hair tousled and his green eyes smiling. They two walked into the restaurant. Cailean had reserved a small table in the back of the restaurant. He had called the waiter over, whispered a few words into his ear, and the entire menu had appeared on their table. Wines appeared without asking. Everything was fabulous.

"How did you even arrange this?" Lizzy asked Cailean. "This is brilliant."

"I have my ways. Now, tell me about yourself England. I want to know everything there is to know about you."

"Well, let's just start off with the fact that I'm completely insane." He laughed.

"I can't exactly see anyone who looks that great in a dress in a mad house somewhere."

"You would be shocked, you can find a couple attractive ones in there. I work in a laboratory that does consulting work for assorted investigative houses. I have a lovely sister with whom I work, and my favorite color is cobalt. I believe it's your turn now."

"I'd prefer to just hear about you. But let me propose a toast." The pair raised glasses of Dom that had been thoughtfully provided. "To a future full of surprises."

"To a future full of surprises." They clinked their glasses, falling back into another hour of easy conversation.

"So," Cailean said, "shall we have a repeat of the night previous?" Lizzy smiled.

"As much as I would love to, I have to be at work early in the morning. But tonight was…magical."

"So I'll see you again?"

"Absolutely." He kissed her hand and she went to retrieve her car. Driving home, she couldn't help but be awestruck by the whole night. It had been magical. She got home, pulling her hair down and taking off her shoes. She walked into her apartment, going about cleaning off her face and peeling off the dress. She had looked beautiful, but Jane hadn't exactly gone light on the mascara. She pulled on an old pair of shorts and a tank top and made to get into bed. Just as she was about to turn the light off, she heard the doorbell ring. She groaned and pulled herself out of bed to answer it.

"Hey."

"Darcy, what do you want?"

"I figured it out."

"Figured what out? That it's after midnight?"

"No, why George didn't come up in he searches."

"Enlighten me."

"He's working with someone."

"Ok, I'll bite. What?"

"George was always adamant about becoming part of the government, covert operations, things like that. Last I heard of him, he had come over here and was working in the Delta Force. Of course, all records for them are completely classified, and all of their records are held…guess where?"

"Jesus Darcy, hurry up."

"Here. Well, when I say here, I mean in the FBI. That's why they didn't come up in the searches. Because the search run by the FBI blocked out information protected by the FBI. It's brilliant! And we can't touch him. Now, that's where you come in. We need some sort of proof that he's connected to the murder. I'm not high up enough, I don't have the clearance to just go poking about, but if we find anything, we can nail him. Because, guess what?"

"What?"

"Hey, spare the sarcasm. Remember how we said that the cable was only available to Special Forces, the SEALS and such?"

"Yes?"

"Guess who else."

"Delta force?"

"Exactly! It's perfect. It fits, it's bloody brilliant. I must have underestimated that guy back in primary school. He's a bloody genius."

"Now, Darcy, here's my question, Why couldn't this have waited until the morning?"

"Because it's….because…well…uh, it's important?"

"I thought so. Night Darcy." He smiled.

"Night Lizzy." He walked down the hallway.

"Darcy, wait." He turned. "Do you want some coffee or something?"

"I thought you would never ask."

"I still can't believe you're Scottish." He laughed.

"Why is that so surprising to you? It makes perfect sense."

"It so does not."

"This is just offensive now."

"Please, calm down."

"After all, you're British, no one knew about that."

"Yeah, but…well. Why would you hide a Scottish accent? It's easily one of the sexiest in the world."

"I take absolutely no offence at that."

"As you should. It's just nice to talk normally with someone for once."

"Why do you still hide yours Lizzy?"

"Force of habit I guess. Once you do something for this long, it's sort of hard to just stop all of a sudden without any true reason."

"We stop breathing all of a sudden for no reason at all, I don't really think it's that hard to just stop doing something just because you've been doing it awhile."

"Thanks for the daily morbidity Darcy." He smiled.

"My pleasure."


	12. A Wakeup Call

**AN: Ok, so here is where I frantically grovel for forgiveness. So, finals sucked, and two days later, I was shipped over to Italian Immersion for a month and a half with no internet and no english. So, nothing even resembling any sort of chapter was written. But, as I frantically typed this out on the plane, and as I upload this in the airport, I promise that I'll write something legitimate in the coming weeks, as my vacation has actually begun. Cheers.**

"Ok, you are officially ridiculous."

"Thank you."

The two had been sitting on her couch for close to four hours, drinking tea and acting appropriately British. Lizzy had curled herself into an old college sweatshirt and tucked herself into her favorite chair. Darcy had removed his tie and jacket and undone a few of his buttons, calling to mind Benedict Cumberbatch among other, less family-friendly thoughts.

"So, the question comes again. Why are you here Darcy?" He shifted in his seat.

"I'm not quite sure honestly, I just felt like talking to someone."

"So call a sex line. Why me?"

"Ouch, should I be offended?"

"Not too much. I'm grumpy when tired."

"There's something bothering you. What's wrong?"

"Nothing that particularly involves you, I wouldn't worry about it."

"So there's something."

"No…I didn't…look, I don't want to talk about it. Not with you."

"I'm pretty sure I'm meant to be offended."

"No, really, it's just…so there's this guy."

"Ok, I'm out."

"DARCY!"

"I'm kidding, I can play the sassy gay friend. What's wrong with Cailean?"

"What? How do you…?"

"Jane is very bad with secrets."

"I should have guessed as much. No, it's not really anything, I mean, he seems….oh, I don't know. I start rambling when I get tired."

"Well, in that case," the man sat up, "I think I'll be going."

"NO!" the man turned. "I mean, I want you to stay."

"Lizzy, I can't really stay, you know that. We aren't eight, sleepovers get a touch awkward."

"It's not a sleepover Darcy. I feel…I feel scared."

"Lizzy…I…ok. But, when this becomes horribly horribly strange at work, I just want you to remember this exact moment in which you asked me to stay the night. Lizzy? Lizzy?" She was curled up on the couch, eyes, closed, breathing soft. Darcy sighed quickly, then turned to the other couch. After making brief prayers for the situation of their future relationship, Darcy joined Lizzy in slumber.

She started. Rubbing her head, she turned herself around. Grumbling to herself, she pulled herself from her bed and walked into the kitchen to grab coffee in an attempt to wake her self up. She pulled her mug down and turned the machine on. Beginning the walk back to her bedroom, she caught a glimpse of moppy hair on her couch. She started again, then walked to inspect the intruder. There, a shirtless Darcy lay, snoring softly. Shrugging quickly, she walked into the kitchen, grabbed her coffee, and walked back to her room.

"Oh my god, Darcy!" She ran back into the living room, he was in the same position. She jostled him briefly, he jumped up.

"Why are you here?"

"Lizzy, you asked me to stay the night."

"No. We were talking and then… I fell asleep on the couch and…why did I wake up in my bed?"

"I moved you. After you told me to stay the night." The two glared at each other, he shirtless, in dress pants with moppy hair and she in a sports bra, tank top, and lady boxers.

"Well. This is awkward."

"Yes Darcy, seconded. Ok, I have an appointment in about 27 minutes so, I'm going to shower and be dressed. Feel free to use the other bathroom or make yourself coffee or do whatever the men folk do in the morning, but I shall see you at work later today." She stalked out of the room, leaving Darcy to wander aimlessly, put his shirt on, and eventually leave.

As Lizzy pulled on her assorted clothing after one of the quicker showers taken since college, today a mint and cream striped shirt with herringbone pants and blazer, she pondered the intricacies of the situation. _So, Darcy had slept over. Ok, but he was clearly clothed from the bottom half, and he was in the other room so, we can make the assumption that we didn't do…you know…that. Oh Jesus, I have to deal with Cailean and…ok, one thing at a time. So, Darcy. We didn't do anything, so that keeps professionalism as some sort of an option. Hip hip hooray. Unfortunately, this created one of the worlds more awkward situations, so that's just bloody awesome. What did we talk about? God, what DID we talk about? I'd assume that it wasn't anything too horrendous, as that would have most likely imprinted itself in my mind for the rest of eternity, but…ummm…probably something about the case. Yes, that makes some sort of sense and…maybe something about the mutual British-ness? Probably some sort of witty retort, because everyone knows that's how we have to speak and…oh we didn't. Yes we did. We talked about Cailean. I remember that specifically. Good lord Lizzy, why are you physically incapable of keeping yourself put together in occasions like this. This is a coworker that you are talking to. He isn't particularly your best friend. And I'm not entirely sure why he was even there in the first place. Did he ever say? Of course not, why would he possibly explain why he was at my house in the middle of the night. It's not like that would make sense or anything. So, the question becomes, ummm….what? What did you say? Think Lizzy, this is important, because…you know…there is some sort of your future professionalism that relies upon these cases actually being solved at one point or another. And here you sit, just hanging out, flirting with an, albeit attractive, FBI agent and inviting him to sleep over at your house. You are not five Lizzy; there comes a point in which it does mean something else to ask a man to sleep over at your apartment. But, of course, it's not like you thought about that or anything. Why would you possibly? Good lord man…oh shit, ok, late for appointment. _Lizzy began to walk out of the apartment._ Oh god I hope he's not here I hope he's not here I hope…ok he's not here. Now, Lizzy, do something correctly for once in your godforsaken life and run. Just run._

"So, he slept over at your house last night?" Dr. Gardiner had retrieved the chai before Lizzy had arrived, just in case.

"I don't know what I was thinking. I asked him to, something about being scared. I can't quite remember what happened. But, that's usually how these things happen, right? You do something stupid and it just turns into something more stupid than you stupidly, previously thought." Lizzy attempted to disintegrate into the leather couch; it proved too difficult. She sat up and had another gulp of chai. She lay down and stared at the ceiling.

"Why did you ask him to sleep over?"

"I think I said something about being scared. Which doesn't make sense?"

"Why?"

"Why doesn't it make sense? As a job, I look at dead people and try to figure out how they died. My entire family is gone, killed by something that has yet to be figured out. I'm a small female who lives by herself in a big city. I've been stalked by serial killers on numerous occasions and I'm approaching thirty, in some semblance of singledom. I have every right to be scared. But I'm not. I'm a brave person. And, besides, it's not like Darcy could save me from any of those things." Dr. Gardiner coughed slightly.

"Lizzy, I think you need to look at the underlying aspects of your relationship with Mr. Darcy. You're coworkers, sure. But, there seems to be a friendship between the two of you that neither of you have quite uncovered. Now, before we talk about him a touch more, I just want to understand the entirety of your social life at this point, if you don't mind me asking of course. You said earlier," she consulted her notes, "something in a semblance of singledom. If you would care to elaborate…"

"Ok, so there's this guy, Cailean. And he took me on this lovely and ridiculous date at this horribly expensive restaurant and he's this horribly, nauseatingly sweet guy."

"Did you sleep with him?" Lizzy flipped her head towards the doctor.

"It's 2011, I'm single, he's attractive."

"Duly noted. Continue."

"I don't know, there's not really that much except…oh yeah. When I was…you know…that, I dreamed it was with Darcy." The doctor sat back. "You know, Violet, you do a horrible job hiding your surprise." The doctor coughed again.

"Yeah, we're going to go back to Darcy now."

"No, I don't know either. I really want to be friends with the man but…he's in my mind. And I don't know what to do about it."

"This is new for you, isn't it?"

"What?"

"This sort of infatuation with any sort of man. It's new. You're used to being in control, we've discussed this whole aspect of your personality quite often. In your field of employment, you are in charge of your own working atmosphere, so to speak. Between you and Jane, you take care of the entire center. It's the two of you who do the job and, while you consult with others and you do have to, on a very abstract level, report to someone else, you really have the total control. Looking past at your past romantic life, you have a tendency to pick men with weaker personalities, small egos, et cetera. What you need to do is bond with Darcy, clearly one of the stronger people around you, personality wise. Jane, I know you love her, and I'm sure she's the sweetest person on the face of the planet, but, between the two of you, you are clearly the stronger personality." Lizzy humphed. Dr. Gardiner ignored her. "I think that your subconscious is telling you that you need to spend more time with other personalities similar to your own, in essence, keeping you safe. In my pseudo-professional opinion, yes Lizzy, you can stop rolling your eyes, you need to spend more time with Darcy outside of the professional atmosphere. As for Cailean, it seems as if he might be a different type of personality, whether or not he'll be strong will be seen. However, he's new and, if he makes you happy, I think you should pursue it." Lizzy flopped about on the couch.

"But…it's scary."

"Yes Lizzy, it's scary. But, life is scary. So, tell me about the case right now."

"Well, nothing new really. We've hit of sort a stop, if you will."

"Stop?"

"So, we narrowed down the type of wire that could have possibly been used to strangle the victims, we started there because it was the one thing that was really consistent throughout all of the deaths. Apparently, the type of wire is only available to certain groups of the military, very tightly controlled. But, there still is the black market and all, so it's not ironclad. However, it's really the only thing that we have, so we've been running with it. And, if that were to be the case, if the wire truly did have to come from the government, which it most likely did, it really does narrow down the amount of people that could have access to it. The wire isn't old, so it can't be someone ancient holding a grudge. That doesn't really fit with the profile anyway, but you never know. So, you move on to people that have gotten out recently, or who are on break, something like that. And, since it's only available to Delta, that's a pretty damn small number to begin with. Maybe one or two thousand at the most are possible suspects. Then, you narrow down to ones that are geographically viable, and the number gets even smaller. But here's the thing. Jane and I operate separately from the government. We work on grants from museums and sponsors and such. So, even though we are working with the FBI on this, most in the other branches of the government are less than excited to work with us. And, I understand that we seem a little green, we are two women under the age of thirty who started our own thing, but we have a stellar track record. It's ridiculous how frustrating some of the people are. Long story short, we can't get a list of all the soldiers on leave or retired who may have access to the wire. Thus, here we are, up shit creek without a paddle. Darcy's been working on it, but I'm not sure how much progress he's made. I don't know. I have faith in the dude and all, but they seem on the harder side of impenetrable. The guy used to be a Navy SEAL, and he has no pull at all. Probably because he's Scottish and all. And so, here we are. And nothing is being accomplished, and I have no idea what to do." And then, Lizzy began to cry.

**Ok, on a second note, I just wanted to add that I've been struggling a touch on where to go with the ends. Feel free to leave suggestions in comments, and thanks for reading. Much love!**


	13. A Promise of Return

"Lizzy. Lizzy. Stop." She blinked up at the good doctor, sniffling a bit. The touch of fire in the eyes of the other woman frightened her, but she stopped crying. "Good, Lizzy. You can't cry, not here."

"Damn good therapist you make."

"I like to think so." Lizzy scoffed. "Here's the thing. You can't cry. I said that you need to be a person who is strong, and I understand that the two are not mutually exclusive, and I understand that strength and the ability to cry are not mutually exclusive, but, you have nothing to be sorry about, you have nothing to be pitied for, and crying because something is difficult isn't the type of person that you are or rather, should be. In your personality, there's a tendency to break down when things get too difficult, and, on a certain level, I understand that. But, this is one instance in which you've been really challenged, and you need to turn that emotion that you feel into a drive to solve this case. I think that, once this case passes, you need to take a vacation, and then is the time to cry. But, you can't cry now."

Lizzy slumped her way back to her car. Wiping all evidence of the previous events from her eyes, she slid in, turned the radio on as loud as it would go, and sped out of the parking garage. Lady Gaga had wormed her way onto the radio; Lizzy shut it off in disgust. She turned it to whatever CD she had at the moment. Darcy had tried to show her how the iPod jack in her car worked, but she had come to the conclusion that her strengths lay with the solving of crime than with modern technology. The Phantom of the Opera came on. Lizzy smacked her head against the steering wheel. Phantom was one of those things she sang when she was plastered, but that Jane appreciated as actual music. She cursed her sister, and began to belt along. By the time she pulled up to the lab, "The Angel of Music" became stuck in her head. Lizzy, despite the fact that she was not drunk and was attempting to keep some sort of dignity, sang her way into the lab.

"The angel of music sings songs in my head." Jane popped out of the door, spreading her arms and belting along.

"Angel I hear you, speak, I listen." Lizzy joined in. "Stay by my side, guide me. Angel, my soul, was weak, forgive me. Come to my side, master." Lizzy dropped an octave.

"I am the angel of music, come to the angel of music." The two sisters began to scream the most recognizable notes on Broadway, collapsing into fits of giggles as they walked inside. The sisters teetered in on their heels, dancing and spinning down the halls that seemed to be made of marble. Their shoes turned to slippers, pantsuits to dance skirts, and the ever-present stench of their macabre profession drifted away. Lizzy remembered, all of a sudden, a play she had been in during the eighth grade. It was before her family had… Lizzy swallowed. Before her family had gone away. Her school was doing a shared musical with the performing arts academy, a sort of promotion to tempt the wealth out of Lizzy's school into the other academy. She had been cast as Meg Giry. She had taken dance classes as a child, but it had never amounted to much. She had loved to sing, but had been terrified to sing in front of people. She was never quite sure why, she just hated singing for others. Jane and the rest of her sisters had dared her to audition, just as a joke. Meg was the biggest role for the eighth grade; all of the true leads had gone to the upperclassmen. Lizzy had fallen down with excitement when she had heard the news. Rehearsals had been horribly demanding, her grades had fallen a level, albeit a small one. But nothing could take away the happiness that had come with landing the role. Throngs of girls her age and younger, and most likely a few older, had hated her for snatching the coveted part that they had deemed was for their usage, but nothing that was said to her made her unhappy. One of the others, a tall blonde girl with a crooked smile and a hint of a waistline made it a habit of falling into Lizzy, throwing her books on the ground. Her brief spell of vegetarianism was mocked, but she maintained the moral high ground, telling herself that the other girls were just jealous. She tried to continue, but she was pushed into lockers, had her gym clothes stolen, her costume ripped, her dance shoes spit in. She went to the head of the play, a gum-snapping man with a penchant for pastel colored sweaters, and resigned herself to a future without music, handing in her uniform and saying she didn't want the part. The man refused in disbelief. There wasn't time to recast the part, he said, she would have to go on.

The part had lost all glory for Lizzy. She did the steps and sung the parts, with tears in her eyes as she did. Her mother told her not to cry, that she couldn't cry then. It would let the other girls win. But she hated her mother for saying that. She hated her family for making her do this. She hadn't wanted to. The only reason she was up on stage was that she had been forced to. She wasn't a singer or a dancer. She was Lizzy, poor, short, vegetarian Lizzy who couldn't do shit to save her own life. In dress rehearsal, she missed a step and burst into tears. The chorus girls, including the blonde one, giggled at her plight. The girl playing Christine, an older brunette who was set to graduate that year, had pulled her aside and, in a mix of snide remarks and inspirational gestures, outlined the outcomes for Lizzy. She could go on and flop, or she could go on and make every star in the sky sing the harmony to her song. Lizzy nodded, wiped the tears from her shimmering face, and sang to her hearts content. The chorus girls had been mad for days, the blonde one continuing to be head cheerleader and date the quarterback all throughout high school. The leader of the show had tried to convince Lizzy to switch to the performing arts school, and Lizzy tried to go back on stage, but she couldn't without crying. She hung up her dance shoes and, after what happened to her family, she buried herself in her schoolwork, making a 4.6 GPA and excelling in everything, especially her science courses. She hadn't thought about that play in years. She sighed, maybe that's why she only listened to Phantom when she was drunk.

She was snapped out of her reverie by a sudden meeting with Lady Catherine, the demon in the gray suit. Lizzy straightened herself up, buttoning her gray suit in the agony of realizing they matched, and sighed softly. She hadn't seen the woman in a while. She knew that she should have been expecting an appearance for some time now, but the woman with the harsh blonde hair must have fallen out of her mind.

"Ah, Elizabeth." The woman sneered.

"I prefer Lizzy actually."

"Your birth name, it is Elizabeth, isn't it."

"Lizzy will be fine." She leaned forward on her toes in an attempt to seem taller than the woman in front of her, but Lizzy's petite stature came nothing close. She mourned her decision to wear kitten heels and attempted to forget that the woman in front of her was technically her boss.

"Elizabeth, I was just stopping by to wonder when you would get around to solving your case." Lizzy couldn't help but imagine the woman sitting in a wheelchair, stroking a white cat as minions stoked the flames behind her.

"Mrs. De Bourgh, the thing about crime is that it doesn't exactly run on a time table. My sister and I are working as hard as we can in order to progress on the case."

"It's funny that you say that, your sister seems to be taking a bit of time off."

"I can assure you that, despite what you may have gleaned from other sources, my sister and I are working as hard as we can in order to find the killer, despite what you have decided on your own."

"Elizabeth," the woman paused, sighing quickly, "are you always so impertinent to your superiors?"

"Usually. I have yet to respect someone who dares not respect me."

"It seems hard for me to find any such reason to respect one who cannot respect others."

"I assure you, I possess the capability."

"Then I suggest you exercise your skills in other areas such as this, as you have yet to exercise skill in your required fields."

"I assure…"

"That's…all." Mrs. De Bourgh turned on her heel, stilettos clacking out of the building. Lizzy stuck her tongue out at the receding figure, starting at the tap on her back.

"Is she gone?"

"Jesus Darcy, she's your aunt, you should be able to deal with her."

"I apologize wholeheartedly, she took care of me for a time after my parents died, I'm still working through the trauma."

"I'm sure anyone would be. I can imagine the PTSD that must come out of her family members. It's surprising she hasn't screwed you up more."

"You would be surprised, everyone in the family harbours scars from that woman." The man shuddered. "But, I do have a surprise for you."

"I'm ecstatic." She deadpanned.

"It actually should be quite fun, well, fun perhaps isn't the word. But, I'm off to pick up Bingley. His two months of mandatory leave are over, and he's just been pacing about going crazy. The FBI is actually being quite lenient; they usually wouldn't let him come back to work on this case, something about conflict of interest, which makes sense. Actually, if you look at the history of cases solved with conflict of…ow." The petite brunette standing beside him had slugged him in the shoulder. "Well, if that's how you feel about history...anyway, I'm off to get him, be back soon." The two muttered quick goodbyes. After the man left, Lizzy had a near collapse due to awkwardness, and walked quickly to her office. She shut the door, took her shoes off, and sat down, just for a minute, to decompress. She'd been at work for five minutes and she was already stressed out. She picked up Ten's sonic screwdriver, a compulsive buy when she had seen it in a toy store in London, and began to twirl it amidst her fingers. It was odd, how suddenly in control she felt when wielding the pen-shaped object. However, she remembered that she was not in fact a time lord and thus had no sonic capabilities. The stress came back.

_Why did I think about that play? I haven't thought about that play in years. Yeah, I was listening to Phantom, but I listen to Phantom all of the time. That's never been an issue before. Well, drunkenness helps. No, I must have listened to that sober before. Fuck, memories, goddammit. No Lizzy, remember, new years resolution? Trying not to swear? Oh, fuck it, you've already failed. God, mind? Be quiet. Blasphemy, shit. Ok. No, will work through problems in mind, then continue and be successful. The dead guys on the table would appreciate that. Ok, so, the Phantom thing doesn't really matter…but I have been remembering more stuff lately…no, stop it. It doesn't really matter all that much, we can do your psychoanalysis later. But…what if it means something? Some sort of divine intervention in which the end of your case will be found. Nope, that's ridiculous. We've talked about this, no such thing. _Lizzy wasn't what you could call religious. _Ok, doesn't matter, can talk to Gardiner about this later. No, am scared of Gardiner. No to be paranoid, but that woman was giving me CRAZY looks today. Am I crazy, I think that would explain quite a bit of this. Wait, how many voices are in here right now? Ok, problems. Am snapping out now. _Lizzy opened her eyes.

"Fuck do you want?"

"No way to talk to your sister Lizzy, she loves you and just wanted to help." Lizzy groaned as her sister threw herself back on Lizzy's couch. She loved her sister, but it was hard not to hate the fact that she was so damn perfect all of the time. Today, she wore a cream silk blouse with a black embroidered pencil skirt, layers of necklaces, and black stilettos. Lizzy liked to think that she had something resembling style, but her Anthropologie and based pseudo-prep were nothing compared to the designer regalia her sister displayed. Maybe it was something to do with the fact that Jane had been the same size since freshman year and she had just gotten around to accumulating all of her clothing, or she allocated all food funds to fashion, but Lizzy always felt frumpy compared to her tall, skinny, beautiful blonde sister.

"Jane, what?"

"Have you heard?"

"Jane."

"Bingley's coming back."

"And you want to marry the bloke, don't you." Jane stuck out her tongue.

"What I mean is that we'll be back to our full team again, it'll be awesome. We might actually get something done around here."

"I can think of other reasons we don't get things done around here Jane, aside from Bingley's non-existence." Lizzy was greeted by a pillow to the face.

"You know what Bug (Lizzy's nickname since childhood, coming from the time she ate one, she maintained that it was on a dare), you need to have some more fun. Now, dead bodies?" Jane gestured towards the door, doing a brief dance and infuriating her sister. Lizzy hauled herself out of the chair.

"You know I hate you sometimes. Well, a lot of the time. You know that right?" Jane followed her sister out of the room.

"Of course Bug."

**Author's Note: Oh my god, it's on the bottom now. Ok, so as I continually grovel for being horrible and not updating on any sort of schedule and with no regularity whatsoever, I just wanted to thank you for making it so far. I've actually starting thinking about my next big one and I've been writing a few one-shots, to be posted later, as I ponder what to with this piece of book. So, in case people were wondering, I've started doing college tours and, life is scary. I do NOT want to grow up. Ok, shall stop rambling now. Have a lovely (hopefully short) time until the next update. best wishes!**

A


	14. A Repetition

"Ok y'all, I'm off."

"Lizzy, you are never allowed to say that again."

"How dare you, just trying to be American over here." Jane shot up from her microscope and glanced around quickly, exhaling a sigh of relief. Darcy and Bingley had yet to return.

"Lizzy, we aren't supposed to talk about that."

"Jane, it's just the two of us. I like to remember that there's something different about us."

"Different?"

"Different. First off, we aren't American. Second, we overcame something. We didn't fall apart, we survived." Jane swiveled away from her microscope.

"Lizzy, there's nothing wrong with falling apart. Everyone does it every so often. It's lovely and worth it and, the beautiful thing about falling apart is that, when you put yourself back together, you're a better person, and the same things can't make you fall apart again. It's the beauty of being human, the ability to fall apart." Lizzy sat and, looking at her sister, began to cry.

"Jane, what if you don't get put back together again? What if you stay broken and tear filled and out of joy and destroyed for the rest of your life?"

"Oh sweetie," Jane came to hug her sister, "what's wrong?"

"I don't know. I've started to remember things. Things that I had forgotten."

"Thanks for clarifying."

"Jane, I swear to god I'm going to kill you."

"Fair enough, continue."

"They're just little bits, from primary and secondary school" Jane coughed. "Elementary and middle school. I don't know why, but that thing about the play that I was in. Schools I went to. Things about… things about that night. I can't control it. I was so good about not letting it get to me anymore, I haven't thought about these things in years. And they're just cropping up. I can't predict them. They'll come in dreams or something I'll listen to will just trigger it. It's scary Jane. I'm scared."

"Lizzy, I promise you, there's nothing to be scared of. Remember when you were seven or so, and Dad was at the office and Mum was sleeping and being ridiculous, and the sisters were in their own worlds, and you woke me up because you were afraid of the dark? And I told you that the branches under the moonlight were nothing to be afraid of, because you weren't done living so your life wasn't over, and nothing could take you away from me because I loved you and I wouldn't let anything take you away from me?"

"Yes, you were prolific and frustrating even as a nine year old."

"Lizzy, I'm completely serious. You're a good person, but you aren't quite done. Nothing can take you until you're done."

"Being a good person has nothing to do with whether you die or not. Every day good people, innocent people die. For no reason at all. Jane, they were good people. Jane, half of them hadn't had a chance to be good people yet." The tears came harder, and Lizzy was broken down to a bare whisper. "Why didn't they even get a chance?"

"Lizzy, you listen to me. You really listen to me. You survived for a good reason. You've done fabulous things in your life. You saved the lives of hundreds of people, and you've made sure that the people who do bad things pay for what they do. You're a good person. You're a wonderful person, and you need someone to remind you of these things every so often. You try to be by your self too often. I'm not going to say we haven't had things happen to us, because I try not to lie and you know that. But, we both came through, and we are wonderful people. Just because some people are gone doesn't mean that we have to spend the rest of our lives in agony waiting for them to come back. They wouldn't want that. They wouldn't want us to suffer, to lose our lives just because they lost theirs. It doesn't mean we forget them. We remember them by continuing with our lives. We celebrate the chances we've been given. There isn't a day that goes by when I don't think of them, of all of them. And they were good people. But they made mistakes, some bigger than others. And we can't gloss over that. You can't idolize them, you can't idolize me or Darcy or Bingley or that bloody therapist of yours. But you remember the people that have gone, the people who don't have the chances you have, and you continue to live. Yu make the most of those chances. Do you understand me?" Lizzy blinked stupidly, but nodded. "Lovely," replied her sister. "Now, you were off somewhere"

"Yes, I had…have a date."

"Ah yes, the lovely Scottish bloke gets another chance. What was his name again?"

"Cailean. His name's Cailean." Jane scoffed.

"And what exactly is so horridly funny about that?"

"You need to study your Gaelic mi'lady. As it is, let's make sure you look as disgustingly gorgeous as possible. I'm taking you shopping." Lizzy began to make pleads, something about spending all her money at a used book sale, they had a wonderful selection of Renaissance Philosophy and histories and… "Lizzy, I insist. I'm buying."

"I actually hate you."

"You look lovely."

"I said that I hated you, accept it."

"Fair enough, but you look gorgeous. God, I need a fancy boyfriend. So where is this lovely one taking you tonight?"

"Opera. The Mikado is playing, God I love that one."

"Nerd. Is that opening tonight?"

"Yes, thus explaining the dress. Something about having to dress up for opening nights. But, to be completely honest, I think this is a touch over the top, it's not the Met or anything." Jane coughed, still in mild awe at the dress. The woman at the ridiculously priced boutique had brought Lizzy a diamond necklace capable of blinding small children and had twisted her hair up in the expectation that the pair would buy the ridiculously overpriced dress. It was a red Zuhair Murad that wrapped and twisted over one shoulder, braiding itself before giving out to the skirt, satin with a chiffon overskirt that fluttered and swished every time Lizzy moved. A pair of heels had been provided from her, their red soles matching the burgundy of the dress.

"Lizzy, it's gorgeous. You look gorgeous."

"Jane, you can't possibly expect me to let you buy this. It's lovely but…" Lizzy swished her skirt again. "Oh god it's lovely."

"Mum should be the one doing things like this, but." Jane stood up and unclasped the diamond pendant she always wore around her neck. It was a small teardrop that hung on a gold chain. Taking off the larger, grander, tackier necklace the sales woman had draped on Lizzy, Jane walked behind her sister and draped the pendant on her with a tear in her eye. The two sisters looked in the mirror, both of the close to crying.

"Mum would have wanted you to have this."

"I still don't understand where you're taking me."

"Lizzy, sweetie, it's a surprise. Trust me."

"This is a second date, how much am I really supposed to trust you."

"Enough for this." Cailean had taken Lizzy, dressed in all her burgundy splendor, into the passenger seat of a hired Lotus. Lizzy had audibly gasped, having been craving an Evora as her supercar since eternity had begun. The car was smoky silver, with a dark leather interior, and Lizzy was absolutely and completely in love, barely noticing anything else except the adorable blond man in the tuxedo sitting beside her. And the fact that they had gone whizzing by the opera house in downtown D.C.

"I still think it would be lovely if you told me where you were taking me."

"To the opera."

"The opera was about 5 minutes that way." She pointed backwards.

"Not the opera I'm thinking of."

"I going to be honest with you, pretty sure there's only one opera house here."

"Lizzy, you have to let yourself be surprised every once and a while. I'll take care of you, I promise." Cailean grinned and stepped on the gas, speeding them along until they reached an airplane hangar.

"Ok, this is definitely not the opera." The had parked in front of a Gulfstream G150, the stairs leading to the plane open and scattered with rose petals. Lizzy gasped audibly for the second time that night, and let the man in the tuxedo responsible for it all lead her into the plane.

A gentle whirring was all that Lizzy heard as the plane began to take off. A well-formed woman in a black cocktail dress had seated them, doling out champagne and assorted appetizer-like foods. She had gracefully receded out of view, perhaps to give the illusion that she was out of earshot.

"Well, this is…this is…"

"I think I understand what you're going for."

"Well, you're very self confidant, aren't you?"

"I like to think so. I seem to have come out all right, considering."

"Considering what?"

"Considering my childhood and all." He took a sip of champagne, turning slightly away from Lizzy.

"You can tell me." She reached her hand out for his; he took it gratefully.

"Well, you know that I grew up in Scotland, yes?" She nodded, and they both giggled slightly upon recalling the situation of their meeting. "Well, I grew up under this family, the Darcy's." Lizzy choked a touch on her champagne, Cailean looked up. "Something wrong?"

"Nothing." She said, wiping her mouth. He continued.

"The father of the family was a wonderful man, may god bless his soul. He suffered so after the mother died; he must have just keeled over himself. I had always been friendly enough with the son, we did practically live together. But my father and his died in quick succession. And he had always been a very proud boy, spoiled and cruel. He used to beat horses, you know. And his sister, not much better. You never met such an affected, uncouth girl. The Darcy Family would call themselves gentility, but I know that supposed good breeding does nothing for the manners of the children. The elder Mr. Darcy had taken a liking to me at a young age, perhaps realizing that nothing good would ever come out of his own son. He had, in his will, left for me a generous living with which I was to pursue my education and installment into one of Edinburgh's more prestigious law firms. However, the living was cruelly taken from me when the elder Darcy died, as the son deemed it fit to leave me with nothing."

"But, how did, well, this" Lizzy gestured to the private plane they were currently sitting on.

"I joined the military. When I was wounded in service, I spent weeks in an army hospital. But I made some friends. I got by. But, on to greater and grander things." He finished his champagne. "I believe we should be landing in a few moments."

Cailean helped Lizzy off the plane and into the back of a limousine waiting outside. Once everyone had their champagne refreshed, the car sped off towards the vast, gleaming, and lovely façade of the Metropolitan Opera House. Lizzy stepped out of the car, eyes glittering with excitement. The car sped off and Cailean wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

"Shall we?"

The tuxedo clad man and the woman and red walked towards the doors, making their way to the opera.

"That was absolutely magical."

"Was it?" The pair was back in the Lotus, having completed their roundtrip journey.

"It was lovely. The opera was lovely, the box was lovely, the plane was lovely, the cars were lovely, you were lovely."

"Really, I was lovely? I've never been described as lovely before."

"Yes," she said, kissing his cheek, "you were absolutely lovely."

The pair pulled up in front of Lizzy's apartment building, seeming much less glamorous after the night she had had. The man in the tuxedo got out, opening the door for the woman in red. She smiled, kissing him fully and encircling her arms around him. The two swished up to her apartment, where clothes were shed, limbs entwined, and love made.

**Author's Note: It seems to be becoming a rather awful incidence in which I continually beg for forgiveness at having not updated in the last eon or so. I would try to make excuses, but everyone has school and work and things and I apologize wholeheartedly. I've started planning for my next big fic, so there's something. Alas, I'm becoming long winded and frustrating. Thanks for reading and have a lovely succession of days until I can update once more. **

**Best Wishes!**


	15. A Sister and a Brotherly Figure

"And I want to make a toast." Jane slished her drink, dribbling only a bit of the alcohol down the side of the glass. "To the beautiful man joining us again after his ill-deserved leave from his dear friends." The quartet downed their drinks as the toast dictated, adding another hint of intoxication to the already disabled minds.

_Ten Hours Earlier_

"Bingley! It's great to see you." Lizzy hugged the man, welcoming him back to the lab after his brief stint at home. "How are you do…"

"Fine, thanks. It's good to be back." The two were silent for a minute. Lizzy looked up at the man. He was tall, not quite as tall as Darcy, but at least ten inches taller than Lizzy. He was topped by a mop of ginger hair, usually combed and managed into something resembling business attire, but it hadn't been cut in weeks. It puffed and curled down over his ears, eerily reminiscent of a redheaded surfer boy, or, perhaps, Jared Padalecki. A hint of stubble graced his high cheekbones, just barely hinted away from the sadness pooling in the man's eyes. He seemed to internally deter it.

"If you need to talk, I'm…"

"I know. Let's just find this son of a bitch, ok?"

"Fair enough." The two walked towards the lab, meeting Darcy and Jane. A glance passed between the elder sister and younger agent. The two left the room, leaving Darcy, Lizzy, and the ever-present stench of disinfectant to themselves.

"So."

"So."

"How're you?"

"Fine enough."

"You look like you were drunk about four hours ago." Lizzy coughed.

"That obvious?"

"Rocking date?"

"Don't say that, I'm beginning to question your masculinity." Lizzy shrugged off her bag and sat down at one of the worktables. Darcy noticeably straightened his back and sat beside her.

"What're, what're you working on?"

"It's weird actually. See, I live in a lovely apartment and, to afford said apartment, I do this thing called solving murders. Actually, I'm working on one right now. Sometimes I work with the FBI, although there's this agent I especially love to work with." Darcy flushed. "He's like fire and ice and rage. He's like the night and the storm in the heart of the sun. And he's wonderful…wait, no, sorry. That's Doctor Who." She giggled. "Anyway, he has this partner called Darcy, he's pretty cool too." She flung her hair over her shoulder; Darcy had an open-mouthed smile, wide in shock and amusement.

"You are unbelievable."

"Yes, I try. So, is the 'you' end of this whole thing making any progress?"

"No, there are no clues. There is absolutely nothing on the sites except, of course, for the bodies. That's where you come in."

"And that's why I get paid the big bucks." She flicked her gloves. "God, this is wretched." Darcy laughed.

"I though you, queen of macabre and gruesome horrifics, were completely fine with all of this."

"No, I just mask it well. But this?" She flicked the remains of one Bill Collins, "is kind of foul."

"I still don't see how you can keep them here this long. He doesn't even look all that old or, rather, decayed. He could have used more sunscreen when he was alive." Lizzy inspected the dead man's pores.

"Agreed. Very firmly agreed. We put them on ice, or at least the modern and scientific equivalent. The room is always chilled to exactly 58 degrees, to try to prevent decomposition. And each table has ice water running through it. Let's just say, if you were to lick the table," Darcy grimaced, "your tongue would freeze."

"Well, that is both informative and repulsive. You still haven't told me about your date."

"You really want me to start fawning all over everything?"

"If nothing else, it'll be entertaining."

"Well, he took me to the opera."

"Twat."

"Hey!" She whacked Darcy, "that's mah boy you be talking 'bout."

"Don't you ever ruin your lovely voice like that again."

"Don't comment on my voice, you're creeping."

"I'm not creeping, merely noticing."

"I bet you are. I could call you a twat."

"Would you?"

"Nah, it's a foul word. Same with the c-word, I can't really say it. It just grosses me out."

"Duly noted. I still don't see what's so absolutely fabulous about the opera."

"He took me to the Metropolitan Opera House."

"In New York?" Lizzy nodded, Darcy whistled. "What?"

"Even I'm fan-girling a little bit. Did you fly?"

"Private jet."

"He picked you up of course."

"Yep, Lotus Evora." Darcy's jaw dropped. "What, supercar envy?"

"That is a nice car. A very nice car." Darcy continued to mutter to himself.

"You're crazy, you know that, right?"

"Absolutely. Do you happen to have a computer I could use?"

"In my office."

"Thanks."

Darcy walked down the hall, muttering to himself about absolutely nothing. _There's always something there. There's just something you're missing. You're smart enough, you can figure this out. Cailean, it's a fucking tosser's name. Gaelic, it means whelp, right? Yep. Thanks mum, Gaelic's been ever so helpful. No, Darcy, dammit. No one names their kid whelp, unless you're absolutely crazy. It's in the name. It's in the car. God, that is a nice car. If you wanted a supercar, just to impress someone, you go Ferrari. You go Lamborghini. Speaking of which, the new show's going to be in London soon…no, distraction is not an option man. Seriously? How can you think about cars at a time like this? Wait. Of course. It's in the car. _Darcy reached Lizzy's office, flipping on the computer and shutting the door behind him. Typing steadily, he reached his destination. _Thank you Richard, the hacking has been lovely. Ok, DMV, DMV, DMV. You're brilliant and you shall tell me all that I need to know. _Darcy indexed the list of registered Lotus' in the greater D.C. area, the database spitting two names and five cars back out. One was familiar enough to him, it happened to be on his driver's license, and the other was just familiar enough to cause worry. And there it was, smoky silver -Lizzy had mentioned something about silver cars- and a dark leather interior. Darcy leaned back in the chair. _Of course. Well, fuck. _

Darcy meandered back to the main part of the lab, tie loosed, hands in pockets. _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I knew it, I fucking knew it. Of course I knew it. I knew it was coming. It can't be happening, not anymore. I thought it stopped. I thought that would stop it. She said it would stop. After that one time. She said it would stop hurting people. Oh god, she said it would stop. I have to stop it. I can't let this happen. Not again. Not know. God I have to stop it. Please, god, let me stop it._

"You look wrecked. I thought I was the drunk one."

"Ha." Lizzy's smile fell.

"Darcy, what's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong. Nothing. It won't affect you. It doesn't matter, not to you."

"And you are really scaring me, are you sure nothing's wrong?" Darcy opened his mouth, then closed it. He tried to speak again, but was interrupted by a smiling pair behind him, none other than a sister and a brotherly figure.

"Ok, y'all, as much as I would love to chat, we do need to get working. But, to celebrate our beloved Bingley's return," Jane poked the man beside her, "I say we all go out for drinks tonight." Assent was muttered around the room, silence coming only from Darcy.

"Bingley, I need to talk with you." The two men left the room.

"What was that about?" Jane asked her sister. Lizzy looked at the men, then back up to Jane.

"I have absolutely no idea."

_A few hours later_

"And I want to make a toast." Jane slished her drink, dribbling only a bit of the alcohol down the side of the glass. "To the beautiful man joining us again after his ill-deserved leave from his dear friends." The quartet had been sitting at a table in the corner of the dingy bar a few miles from the lab. Austin's had been a staple in the case-closing habits of the sisters for years, and the owners came to know the sisters well. Twenty-four tables sat for twenty-four groups, scattered on a pocked floor grooved with years of use. There was one corner in the back ever reserved for the two sisters, having carved their names into it one particularly drunken night. Assorted FBI agents and contacts had joined the scrawled list on the bottom of the table and, for some reason, the owners didn't seem to mind. One was a retired cop, the other an ex U.N. official, both falling from their greater heights to open one of the skurviest bar's in town. The two men always kept an eye out for the girls, the cop having worked on their parent's case and the official having worked with her father. They were father figures and, for the sisters and their apparent dates, they had sent over some mozzarella sticks, perhaps in an attempt to sop up the alcohol in the stomachs of the girls they treated as their daughters.

"Cheers." The four replied, tossing back swigs of whatever they had in their hands. A few hours had gone by since they had started the quest to insobriety. Jane had been trashed for a while now; she had something less than a tolerance for the drink. Lizzy, despite having gone through her drinking phase earlier in life and having a tolerance rivaling that of most men twice her size, was still tipsy and giggly, swiveling about on her chair in drunken glee. Bingley, in his tall and spindly state, was already trashed, nuzzling Jane and, albeit accidentally, kicking Lizzy in the leg every so often. Only Darcy, tall and packed with muscle, still kept his wits about him. He nursed a whisky, the most adult drink he could think of given his current state of madness. He willed himself to be drunk, alas; his mind refused to cooperate and kept itself in working order.

_You have to tell them. You have to talk about it. You have to deal with it. _

_I hate you. _

_I'm serious, this is important; you can't let it happen to anyone else._

_It isn't my fault._

_That doesn't mean you can't stop it._

_Well, what do you think I should do? _Darcy's brain became silent, in true form of the Scottish miscreant.

"Darcy, I belweeve, oopsie, I beel-eeeve that you are…you are just lovely, and, you know? You're a good person and I…I like you." Lizzy waved her hand about in the air, spilling her drink only slightly. "You are tall…and pretty…and…and." Darcy smiled.

"And you're drunk."

"I'm not drunk. I'm British goddammit, I've only had like two pints."

"You've had six shots of vodka." Lizzy hiccoughed. "And, I believe it's time to get you home." He gestured to Bingley, "you can get yourself and her together, right?" The ginger man nodded. "I'll take Lizzy. Come on."

"No, I'm a big girl, I'll do it." She hopped off the stool, standing at her full height and turning to Darcy. "See?" She promptly crumpled to the floor. Darcy caught her before she hit.

"Yes Lizzy, you're a very big girl." She smiled; he scooped her up into his arms. "Come on." He carried her out of the bar and plunked her into the passenger's seat of his car.

"You know, Darcy, you're strong. And perrrty. And strong."

"Thank you darling."

"Yeah, Cailean's not so strong. He's only, like, a little strong. And he's tiny." She giggled. Darcy flushed. "He's nice though, but he says bad things. He says mean, bad things."

"I'm sure he does Lizzy."

"He says mean things about you."

"I'm flattered."

"No, he says really mean things. He says that you're bad and that you owe him money and that his dad was friends with your dad." Lizzy giggled again. "He sounded ridiculous. And you should know that I don't believe him, because I am a lovely upstanding citizen and you are nice. And strong. You're strong." Darcy chuckled.

"You are lovely."

"That's what I told him."

"I'm sure you did."

They pulled up in front of Lizzy's building, Darcy getting out and opening the door to get Lizzy. She humphed.

"I can do it myself." She fell. Darcy caught her stumble and picked her back up. She giggled again; he locked the car and carried her upstairs. After hunting about briefly in her pockets, she placed a key in Darcy's palm. She promptly passed out. Darcy carried her inside, took of her jacket and placed her in bed. She was snoring softly. He left her in her bedroom, took off his own jacket and grabbed a book. It was going to be a long, puke-riddled night.

**Author's Note: Yes, a brief foray into the psyche of our ever-lovely Darcy. Such a sweet guy, no? Thanks for reading, and feel free to comment or anything like that. I'm currently working on two new things, so those should hopefully be up in the near future and, apparently, our school gives us Rosh Hashannah off so, maybe I'll get a chapter up. Twice in a week, hell must be freezing over. Much love, thanks a lot, and best wishes!**


	16. An Expedition

"Ugh."

"I take it you're feeling better."

"I don't want to talk about it." Lizzy trudged into her kitchen. "However, it's becoming mildly unnerving that I'm completely accustomed to strange men sleeping over at my apartment. All I could think was that you needed to start keeping pajamas here."

"I don't think I count as strange. And it's not as if we slept together."

"Yeah, that'd be a whole different kind of knot in my stomach." Lizzy turned to Darcy. "And how dare you let me drink so much. HOW DARE YOU!"

"You're clearly becoming upset over your lack of tolerance to the drink. But, there's something you should know. One of you British people shall never try to out-drink a Scotsman and get away with it." Darcy stretched himself out in the manner of the smug cat he was.

"I hate you. What did I go with?"

"A few beers and no fewer than 6 shots of vodka." Lizzy retched a bit in her mouth.

"I can still taste the vodka. Thank God it's Saturday."

"And what do you intend to do on a Saturday such as this."

"I believe an alternation between reading, sleeping, and retching is on the agenda."

"Sounds delightful." He smiled in smug regard to the woman next to him.

"It's not like you didn't drink at all, how are you even functional."

"It's in the blood."

"Yeah, 120 proof."

"It's a well developed skill going through uni, you have to be able to drink with the best of them."

" And I thought I was good." Lizzy lifted her hand to shield her eyes. "Why is it so goddamn sunny?" Darcy looked back own into his book.

"Because it's daytime, sweetie."

"Don't call me sweetie, it doesn't fit you."

"You're right, instant regret. And you," he got up in order to guide her, "need to go back to bed."

"No, I do not want to sleep. I want more witty banter!" She made to fight, but was scooped up by the man behind her and plunked into bed.

"Lizzy, sleep." She looked up at the man standing next to her.

"Will you stay?"

"Do you want me to?" He replied, but she was already asleep. He left the room, smile falling from his face. He shut the door and walked to the farthest corner of the living room in the hope that she wouldn't be able to hear him. Glancing at the invitation pinned to the bulletin board atop Lizzy's desk, he shuddered. Pulling out his phone, he dialed quickly.

"I know you want to do this, but I need to talk to you. There's something wrong."

_Elizabeth Bennet,_

_ You are formally invited to a dinner party given by Misters Bingley and Darcy, in order to celebrate the 30__th__ birthday of Miss Jane Bennet. On the 14__th__ of December, we would be honored if you would be able to join us…_

"Shit shit shit shit shit." Lizzy flung herself out of bed. Of course it was Jane's birthday today. She hated herself for having forgotten. Of course she had to be hung over for her sister's big birthday. She groaned and got herself out of bed, head swirling and stomach churning. The two sisters usually made a point of getting drunk and watching movies on their birthdays. Lizzy groaned at the mere thought of alcohol. Both were too geeky to bother going clubbing, and neither had friends enough to have a party. Lizzy was still confused as to why the agents were holding them one and, considering the meager supply of acquaintances between the two sisters, who the guest list would entail. People from the lab, certainly. Assorted FBI agents perhaps. Museum contacts and assorted strangers who would look good in black tie, possibly. The dreaded Lady Catherine most likely. It wasn't as if they had family. More than anything, she was just waiting for the utter train wreck that would be that night. It was almost worth a giggle, but it made her sick to laugh.

_ Ok, clothes, clothes, clothes. _It was already four in the afternoon, and, due to the eventuality of the dreaded Lady Catherine, she had to look at least reasonably nice. The invitation specified black and white, so Cailean's red dress was out, as was the majority of the more costume-y looking sparkles she had bought on dares. Throughout her childhood, her mother and assorted other guardians had lavished upon her the luxury of a well-furnished wardrobe. From birth, the girl had been draped in every illusion of finery, whether or not the family could afford it. The family had been very keen in keeping up appearances. Lizzy was five foot two, the same height she had been since 9th grade. And, after the loss, she had been wearing the same size four since just before college. She had accumulated plenty of clothes over the years, ranging from the neon forced for college raves to the floor length, conservative black required for the funerals of victims. She had a few bridesmaid dresses from those friends unfortunate enough to have no one else to invite, she had spandex from those misguided attempts to force herself to go to the gym. She had the requisite pseudo-prep associated with the very core of her stylistic existence. Her closet was overflowing with things but, for once in her life, Elizabeth Bennet had nothing to wear.

"Ok, ok, this'll all be fine." She heard a clunk in the living room, then a short burst of laughter. "Darcy!" He poked his head through the door, flushing slightly at the view of Lizzy in nothing but a robe.

"What?"

"I need help, I'm having a first world problem."

"At ease soldier, what?"

"I need something to wear for tonight." Darcy's face fell at the mention of tonight.

"Tonight?"

"Yes, that part thing you're hosting for my sister's birthday? Frankly, I still don't understand it, but ok. I'll let you run with the whole gentleman thing, despite the fact that- well, never mind. "

"I take offense at this assault upon my honor and, I'm going to be completely honest with you. How exactly do you expect me to help you fix this supposed lack in clothing?" He looked at the piles spilling out from her closet then back to the girl grinning sheepishly. "Honestly Lizzy. I don't think you have a problem."

"But, the thing is, I do." She began to tear through the clothes, Darcy ducking every so often to avoid the flying pieces of material. "See, everything I have is too casual, or has too many colors, or is ugly to the umpteenth degree, like this stunner right here." Lizzy pulled out a particular poufy nightmare from a black and white dance held her junior year of high school. She recalled the shaggy grunge hair that had accompanied the outfit. "Oh, the nineties were awful."

"So, you seriously have nothing to wear?"

"See, you didn't believe me."

"I still don't believe you."

"You know what, you're a boy-"

"Thank you."

"I'm going to kill you."

"Awesome."

"As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, you're a boy, you don't understand these things. Here's the other, slightly less disastrous problem. Since you drove me home last night, I don't have a car. And, since you're here, I was hoping…" She crossed her arms behind her back and bit her lip, praying for the tall man in the rumpled suit to say yes.

"You want me to drive you around while you look for a dress to wear to a party?"

"That would be correct."

"Seriously? Why don't I just drop you off at the lab so you can get your car and this whole thing can be averted and dealt with."

"The thing is, Darcy," she took a step closer. "I want you to come with me." The tall man in the rumpled suit, having spent most of his hours with Lizzy flushed in some manner or another, turned a bit brighter red at this moment in time. He both collected himself and prepared himself for this ridiculous quest.

"Fine, but on one condition." She nodded. "You haven't even heard it yet!"

"I trust you."

"I need to stop at my place first. It's a Saturday, and if I have to go shopping, I'm not doing it in a suit."

Never having seen his apartment before, Lizzy had no guess as to what it could look like. Of course, after having seen it, it was abundantly clear what she should have been expecting. Everything was in dark woods and leather, with red plaid throws and an integrated fridge. Everything was put away, vacuumed and cleaned within an inch of its life. Lizzy thought back to the clothes littering her floor after attempting to prove her point. Alas, she had never been a neat adult. She shook the thought from her head. Assorted black and white photographs of Scottish moors were framed against the walls, offset by the more recent photos of Darcy shaking hands with his friends in high places. Books in leather casings filled the shelves lining the front room. A baby grand Steinway sat in the corner, lovingly polished to a finish.

"You play?"

"Not really. It's mostly there for show. But, if you ever get me drunk enough, I will give you a lovely rendition of 'Row Row Row Your Boat'. Now, if you'll excuse me…" He disappeared into the further reaches of the apartment, leaving Lizzy to contemplate the blonde face in most of the pictures overhanging the fireplace.

"I hate you, just so you know."

"No Darcy, you absolutely love me. And that is a completely irrefutable fact. Ok, turn off here." Reaching the upscale mall, the two sweater-clad friends walked into the first department store they could find. For the next two hours or so, Lizzy pulled on assorted black and white dresses, modeling, posing, and teetering about on a loaned pair of heels. Darcy laughed constantly, at the dressing room attendant who assumed they were dating, at the floof and tulle ridden gowns Lizzy insisted upon trying on, and at Lizzy herself. She was deathly funny, one of the most brilliant people he had ever had the pleasure to talk to. It made him break inside to know what was going to happen. What had to happen.

**Author's Note: Hello dear friends! So, it's slightly shorter than a normal chapter but, hey, it's up. So, claps for me. I jest, of course. How bout that Darcy, eh? Ok, I'll stop. I promise. Thanks for reading and, as always, any suggestions or anything of the like would be lovely, you lovely people. God, that's a good word, isn't it? Lovely. Well, you all are lovely and much love to you. Best wishes!**

**Also, I just realized that any artistic line breaks I had been making haven't been going through, so if transitions are weird, sorry about that. I'll figure something out for next time, I promise. **


	17. A Ball

"Yes, coming, coming." Lizzy ran to the door, her wet hair sticking to her back, just touching the top of her dress. She was in love with it, the way it clung in the front and dripped down her back. Black satin fell from her shoulders in a halter, cinching around her waist with a small sash and gliding over her legs before furling out in a small trumpet. It dragged a little on the floor, but the woman had said the right pair of heels would fix that. Lizzy hadn't brought herself to put them on yet. She'd barely started her makeup and she had to leave five minutes ago. She opened the door. "Jesus, why are you here?"

"What? No, it's me."

"Yes, Darcy, I know it's you. Why would you even? Never mind, what do you want?"

"I'm here to pick you up."

"I'm not ready to leave yet."

"I'll wait, you shouldn't show up by yourself."

"Fine, just wait in the thing."

"Kitchen?"

"That'll work." Lizzy walked to her bathroom and commenced staring into the mirror. She didn't know what she was supposed to do with herself. She didn't wear makeup normally, just a smidge of eyeliner and concealer over the occasional zit. She figured that, for something like this, she should put minor thought into her face. She painted herself slightly, decided she looked like a French whore, and kept going because it would probably make Catherine madder. She laughed a little bit as she swiped on the red lipstick. It'd be funny, if nothing else.

She tripped slightly as she put the shoes on, grabbed Darcy, and made for the car. Darcy looked nice actually, though she figured she shouldn't have been all that shocked. He looked nice in most everything he wore. She slapped herself mentally for thinking that. He was just an agent, and kind of an ass at that.

"So."

"So." They got into the car. Darcy drove.

"What do we do now?"

"I guess talking would suffice," she said.

"Pick a topic, any topic."

"Dead bodies. Did you know that, just before rigor mortis completely sets in, the entire colon completely—"

"Enough. Pick any other topic, or else I'll have to vomit on you."

"What, Agent Darcy with nerves of steel has a stomach made out of small kittens? Thank God for small victories. I bet you get sick on roller coasters."

"I do not."

"I bet you get mad when the bumper cars crash into you."

"Lizzy, I swear to God."

"I bet you get tangled in the cotton candy."

"That doesn't even make sense."

"What am I even doing? God, I need to sleep more."

"I like your dress."

"You picked it out."

"That's beside the point. I think it's nice."  
"Thanks, Darcy. I guess you don't look half bad yourself."

The spent the rest of the car-ride in silence.

Darcy pulled up in front of the hotel where the party was being held. It was one of those ridiculous French ones that's famous for being famous, one with eight trillion doormen and a dress code to sit in the lobby. Lizzy had never been in. A doorman took their coats and led them to the ballroom.

There were hundreds of people there, so many that Lizzy barely recognized a quarter of them. Large windows and a balcony looked out over the Potomac, the lights of the city glittering in the water. A large chandelier hung from the ceiling, candles flickered from holders in the wall. Everything was in black and white, from the black marble floors to the white vaulted ceiling. Lizzy's mouth fell open; Darcy pushed it back shut. She slapped his hand away.

"What is this?" she asked.

"A birthday party. For your sister."

"I don't know any of these people."

"You will, it's the point of a ball, to get to know people."

"I feel like this is a character reversal. You're supposed to be all petulant and quiet and go sulk in a corner."

"Oh, I will. Trust me. Once I dispense with the likes of you, I'll be drunk and happy sitting by myself. Where's Bingley?" Darcy walked away, leaving Lizzy to the look at the masses of swirling people meandering on the floor. She grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the circling waiters and went to look for Jane. She found her sitting in a dark corner with Bingley. She decided not to intervene.

Lizzy walked out to the balcony. Most people stayed inside from the cold, but Lizzy thought it was refreshing, and she hated the noise. The gossip. The pageantry of it all. She sipped her champagne. It really was beautiful out there. She heard the door open behind her and saw a pair of arms lean on the banister.

"What are you doing out here?"

"Not being in there."

"You don't like it?"

"Darcy, it's a fine party, just not my kind of thing. You remember the last time I got invited to one of these right?"

"Yeah, last case. Bingley held a party at the hunting lodge, Netherfield. I thought it was nice, except…oh."

"Yeah."

_Two Years Earlier_

Lizzy was pissed. Hell, she was always pissed, but especially pissed. Darcy was an ass. Why the hell did he have to invite her to this? She didn't want to go. She had mono all lined up and Jane, effing Jane, had said she'd had to go. They walked in the front door of Bingley's lodge. It was built to be some old English manor and, if Lizzy hadn't been so adamant on being upset, she would have thouroughly enjoyed how pretty it was, out in the wilderness with the flowers and the trees. Lizzy dodn't get out of the city much. She claimed allergies.

Some men at the door took their coats and they walked in the stream of people, arriving at one of the biggest rooms Lizzy had ever seen in a house. Easily three stories high, with arched ceilings and paneled walls, the ballroom could have been in a palace. The walls were intriquiatly carved and the large windows opened up onto a patio, where people were streaming in and out.

"Welcome," Bingley said. "Thanks for coming. I hope you found the place all right." Jane responded politely, Lizzy grumbled and walked away. She asked for a beer at the bar and, receiving it with a dirty look from the bartender, took a swig and walked outside. The interns were squabbling, yelling for a dance. Everyone started looking at them. Lizzy ran away. She saw Hamilton off in a corner, yelling about his superiority, why it was he who had solved the triple homicide. He proceeded to comment on the imminent demise of his partnership, as Jane was clearly in love with Bingley and they were to be married almost instantly. Everyone was yelling. Lizzy took her shoes off and put them in a flowerpot. Hitching up her dress, she stalked off.

"Shit. Shit, shit. Shit."

"Calm yourself Lizzy. What's wrong?"

"Darcy, go away. I don't want to be here, that's what's wrong."

"Why are you throwing such a fit?"

"Because, Darcy, there's a reason I don't get invited to things like this."

"I have no idea what you're whining about."

"Really? You don't see my inadequacy as a human being?"

"I thought it was quite funny actually."

"Shut up. Just, shut up."

"Sorry. Really, there's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Darcy, just be quiet." He leaned against a tree, she buried her head in her hands.

"I still don't see what's wrong. So the interns may have gotten a bit drunk and started yelling. It's not the end of the world." Lizzy looked up.

"Darcy, you don't understand how hard it is to be a professional woman. One who actually has to work for a living. I don't have mommy and daddy's money, unlike the two of you. Why do you even work? You could clearly just retire and go buy an island somewhere and leave us alone?"

"I don't see why you're blowing up about this."

"Because the interns are my responsibility. They reflect on me. And their complete lack of anything resembling courtesy or discretion or good breeding reflects on me. Have you seen the way people look at me? Like I don't belong here? I mean, I don't belong here and I know that, but how do they all know too? I don't belong here, don't belong in your world, and you don't belong in mine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get plastered, make a fool of myself, and resign." Darcy nodded curtly and went back to the house. Lizzy sat in the grass. For some reason, she started to cry.

_Present Day_

"You don't still feel like that, do you?" Darcy asked.

"No. You're good at what you do, but I don't belong here. I don't belong in your world." She sipped her champagne. "I just don't belong here." Darcy threw his arm around her shoulder.

"You know, I quite liked the Netherfield ball. And I quite like you. And I think we should go inside. And, I think you owe me a dance."

The two walked inside. Bingley and Jane were still in their corner, hiding behind the massive rainbow of presents for Jane. In fitting with the décor of the room, there was a small band playing in the corner in lieu of a DJ. Darcy held out his hand, Lizzy took it. She put her head on his chest, closing her eyes slightly. _God, he was tall. He smelled nice._ Lizzy had always had a thing for guys who smelled nice. _No,_ _make conversation. Conversation is good. Comment on the number of couples. No that's dumb. The weather? Christ, I don't do this._

_ "_What are you worrying about?"

"Darcy, I'm not worrying. What are you even doing?"

"Your heart rate sped up. What are you worrying about?"

"My heart rate did not speed up."

"Lizzy, I'm a detective. This is my job."

"Stop it. I'm not worrying. My heart is fine," she said. Darcy laughed quietly. They danced for another hour.

_Later_

Darcy took Lizzy's coat and wrapped it around her. He opened the door of the Lotus for her, tucking her into the car. He drove her home. They didn't talk much. Lizzy fell asleep in the car. When they got to her apartment, he tried to nudge her awake. Realizing the futility of the action, he picked her up and carried her upstairs pulling the key from her purse. He thought about changing her into pajamas, realized the ideas behind the sentiment, flushed, placed her on her bed, and sat in her living room. He pulled a book of her shelf and took off his jacket, falling asleep on her couch.

**Author's Note: I would try to apologize, grovel and all that. Alas, I shall not. Only hope to update in the near future, maybe even finish this thing. As always, much love and best wishes. It's nice to see you again. **

**Zoe**


	18. A Distraction

"It's a terrible habit we're getting into," Lizzy said, pouring coffee.

"I don't think it's all that bad."

"How many sleepovers have we had so far?"

"Fair enough. What do you want for breakfast?"

"God, we're homebodies. Actual homebodies. Darcy, what's wrong with us?"

"I think it's nice. Though, may I make a request for a better couch?"

"Quiet, you."

"As your unofficial protective detail, I need a back in full function."

"You want pancakes?"

"Oh my lord, yes." Lizzy started to laugh.

"I haven't seen you get so excited about anything."

"I like pancakes. I'll get the eggs out." They were quiet for a moment.

"You know, Darcy, you don't have to stay overnight. I mean, if you don't want to."

"You get scared. I should be here."

"We also have to figure out why people are dying. And you do sort of need to be sleeping for that." Lizzy flipped the pancakes.

"Are you breaking up with your bodyguard? I'm offended."

"I think it's about time I put my foot in my mouth. I like having you here."

"I like being here."

"I'll buy a cot."

The two finished breakfast quietly.

_Later_

"Lizzy Bennet? The doctor will see you now." Lizzy stood, walking into the office of the good doctor. Dr. Gardiner bustled into the room in a flurry of eyelet and chai.

"Lizzy, darling. It seems like it's been ages. How's life?"

"Can't complain."

"That's what I'm here for."

"It's just, I don't know where to go."

"With what?"

"With the case. I mean, we figured out sort of what's going on, they're being strangled with this crazy specialized rope stuff, but there's this weird thing with the blood of the victims and they're mixing it and, I don't know." Lizzy wrapped her hands around her mug. "I just don't know."

"Is there anything else to look at, other bodies you've found?"

"Nothing. After the first few were discovered, the trail stopped. It's almost as if they just needed to be put out of the way. But that opens up all this new stuff with motive. It's above my pay grade."

"To be frank, isn't that why you work with the FBI?"

"Well, yeah, but don't even get me started on working with them. It creates more problems than it solves."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, Darcy. I've told you about him. Amazing-looking, don't get me wrong. And we're friends, I guess. It's weird though. He spends a lot of nights at my house. I cook him breakfast. But it isn't like we're sleeping together. Not that I can say I haven't thought about it, but we're just friends. And it's just distracting as all hell."

"Lizzy, you need a distraction, something to take your mind off of things. You've worked too hard for too long. You need a break."

"I can't just take a break in the middle of a case. It's already gone on for too long. I just need to get the damned thing all wrapped up."

"You put too much pressure on yourself."

"Well, I knew that."

"I'm serious. You haven't found any new bodies, chances are there aren't that many more being created. Relax. Do your job, but relax yourself. Let the distraction come."

"You sure?"

"It's my job. I promise. It'll all work out."

"Thanks, Doc. Really."

"Oh, Lizzy, of course. You going back to the office?"

"Yeah, thought I'd take another look at all of the records."

"Ok, just let things happen at their own pace. Everything always works out."

_Later_

Lizzy sat in her office, twiddling a pen between her fingers and humming softly. There had to be something she was missing, there just had to be. She flipped through her notes. No fingerprints, only fibers from the rope. The request for the list of specific Navy SEALS using the rope had been denied. Lizzy blamed the FBI and their bureaucracy, but let it slide. There wasn't much she would be able to do about a classified file. She would have to find something else. Of course, Darcy said it was a George Wickham, but there wasn't much proof behind it.

"Lizzy? Can I come in?"

"Yeah, course." Jane poked her head through the door and sat down."

"Are you alright?

"I'm fine, how are you and Bingley?"

"Don't change the subject. Seriously, you're acting like something massive is the matter."

"Nothing's the matter, I just want to solve this."

"Lizzy, some things are not solvable. You know that, right?"

"Don't talk to me."

"Lizzy…"

"Jane, I'm serious. We're going to solve this." Jane stood up.

"We're not going to kill ourselves trying."

"Anything else?"

"Yes, actually. You got a letter, old-fashioned as it is. I didn't even know anyone still sent letters."

"Jane, thanks."

"No problem. Lizzy," she said as she walked out the door, "take care of yourself. Sometimes there are more important things than this."

"Goodbye Jane."

As Jane walked out the door, Lizzy opened the letter and smiled. An invitation, signed Cailean. He'd pick her up at eight.

_Later_

Lizzy, baubled and bedazzled as per Jane's instructions, walked down to Cailean's car. She never got sick of that beautiful Lotus.

"So, where are you taking me?"

"I think you need a touch more surprise in your life. You trust me?"

"I think I could manage to."

"You look gorgeous tonight."

"As do you, good sir. Well, not gorgeous. Handsome, I would say. Though I don't quite understand the need to specify between male adjectives and female adjectives. In all seriousness—"

"Darling, you're babbling again."

"I do occasionally fall into that trap."

"You choose to fill the silence. Fill the silence with meaning. How's work going?"

"Fine," she said, stiffening slightly, "but I don't really talk about my work much."

"So talk about your co-workers. You work with your sister, yeah?"

"Yeah, Jane. Right now, we're collaborating with the FBI."

"I can see why you wouldn't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"I'm not exactly fond of the FBI myself."

"Pray tell."

"Well, not the FBI, just a few members of it."

"Amen to that."

"Have you ever met an Agent William Darcy? A very proud man."

"Yeah, I've worked with him a bit."

"Can't stand him."

"What did he do to get on your bad side?"

"He, well, it's hard to talk about for me."

"I can be a very good listener," she said. Cailean smiled.

"He did some rather terrible things when I was a child. We grew up together, neighbors. Then, when my parents died, in an accident that seemed not quite accidental, his father took me in. I didn't have any other family. He treated me like one of his. The elder Darcy was a man of fine character. I can't say as much for the younger. When his father died, under similar tragic circumstances, I was promised a cut of the family business, they really were frightfully rich, and some land. Darcy the younger forwent his father's wishes and, well, cut me out."

"Of the will? Couldn't you do something?"

"It wasn't in the will, per se. More like a living promise from a father to his adopted son. Except of course, he never officially adopted me. Some harsh words from his son would have prevented that."

"God, I never realized he was that awful."

"He's good at, covering himself up. Perhaps that's why he took a position in which he could lie to people. Some are just drawn to those sorts of professions."

"I'm so sorry."

"It's alright now. I've set myself up, made friends. And, sweetheart, I have you." He kissed her cheek as they pulled into a parking lot. Lizzy shot off a text.

_Darcy, don't bother coming over tonight._

**AN: Well, perhaps that I'm out of school, I'll start getting these out on some sort of normal basis. I humbly apologize and grovel at your feet. Much love and best wishes, **_  
_

**Zoe**


	19. A Search and a Switch

Lizzy woke to an empty bed. A rose sat on her bedside table, a note beside it.

_Lizzy, _

_ Darling, I hate to leave you this morning. You are so beautiful when you sleep. Have breakfast for me. I'll count the days until I see you again. _

_The Scot_

Lizzy made pancakes for herself, puttering about the house. It was eight in the morning. Where did he need to be? She tried to brush it from her mind, but everything seemed sort of… off.

Ok, Lizzy, calm. Melt the butter. Stir the flour. Don't think about it too much. Whip the eggs. Pour everything. Make a circle. Crap, an oval. Close enough. Flip with ease. Shit. Can you rinse off a pancake? Least it landed face up. Beautiful. And, back on the griddle. Crap. Pancakes are hard. Dammit. Ok, ice for the finger. No, cold water. Ice is bad. Bad bad ice. God, breakfast. Coffee is good. Stick to coffee.

Lizzy couldn't think. She tried to go back to bed, fake sick and call Jane to bail her out, but she couldn't sleep. She started to clean up from breakfast, but her arms felt all twitchy. She felt…off. She shrugged off her coat and walked out the door.

Driving was misery. She couldn't think, nearly swerving into a few of the cherry trees. There was something nagging at the back of her mind. Something off. She hated the bits in the back of her mind. The nagging bits that were always right when they bothered to wake up. She parked unevenly and walked into the J. Edgar Hoover building. Getting a visitors badge from a frustrated secretary, she took the elevator up to the 11th floor. She ground her teeth, scuffed her shoes. She felt nervous in an office without disinfectant. The elevator door opened. Lizzy walked through the cubicles of the lesser agents and found the corner office. She knocked on the door. She was welcomed in.

"Bingley. Hey."

"Lizzy, it's nice to see you. Most of my interaction gets swallowed up with the other Bennet sister." He grinned. "How can I help you?"

""I need to ask a favor of you, and I couldn't really ask Darcy."

"Why?" he asked. She looked at the ground. "I see. What exactly do you need?"

"A background check."

"Lizzy, I can't just—"

"I know it's a big favor to ask, and I might just be crazy to ask for it, but I have this nagging feeling that this person isn't exactly, well, all good."

"Alright. But only cos I like you. What's the name?"

"Cailean."

"Lizzy, you're aware that it won't exactly do much if you don't know his last name."

"No, I know stuff about him that can help. I can work with a sketch artist or, you know, something."

"Lizzy—"

"I'm sure there's something funky with this. And you're the only one I can turn to."

"Why don't you ask Darcy? He is the Scot, and it's a Scottish name, right?"

"I don't want to ask him. He'll judge me," she said. Bingley laughed.

"He is that sort of man. I'll run a search. There can't be that many Caileans running around, can there?" Lizzy nodded and sat down. Bingley typed a few words and sat back. He ran his hand through his hair. "Uh, Lizzy? What exactly is your relationship with this man?" Lizzy looked down. "Right, you have, shall I say, interesting taste." He turned the screen toward her; Lizzy began to laugh. A man of 87 sat grimacing at the camera.

"That's not him, much as I would want to date him. He has a bit more…allure than that."

"Well, then your Cailean isn't exactly who he says he is. This guy was the only match."

"There has to be some sort of mistake."

"Lizzy, maybe you were right. Maybe he is a bad guy."

"I guess. It's just…I don't know. I guess I was holding out hope," she said. There was a knock on the door. Bingley gave the all clear. Darcy poked his head in.

"Am I interrupting something?"

"No," Lizzy said," I was just leaving. Really." She gathered her things. "Bingley, thanks. Really." She left, tripping slightly on the doorframe. Darcy sat down.

"What was that all about?"

"Nothing. She was just asking after her sister."

"You know we need to talk about that."

"Is that why you're here?"

"Bingley. Really. It's time."

_Later_

Lizzy sat in her office, twirling a pen between her fingers. There had to be something she was missing. There just had to be. There was a knock on the door.

"Jane, you can come in." Jane sat across from Lizzy.

"Lizzy, sweetheart."

"Don't call me sweetheart. You only call me sweetheart when something bad has happened."

"Well, something bad has happened."

"What?"

"They, well, for lack of better words, shut us down."

"What? They can't just—"

"Apparently we were taking too long. The trail has gone cold and the case is being closed.

"It's been a few months. Cases have gone on far longer than that."

"Don't shoot the messenger."

"So, what, we just pick up another case?"

"Not quite. They're taking our lab. Something about protection and jurisdiction. Bureaucratic things. We're out of commission for at least the next three months."

"This is bullshit." Lizzy heard a scuffling outside and stood. "Is that them? So help me, I will take a scalpel to their—"

"Lizzy, sweetheart, sit down." Lizzy sat down. "It's going to be alright."

"Effing Darcy. I'm gonna go talk to them. Now. I can't believe those motherfu-"

"Don't bother."

"Jane, what happened?"

"The case is shut down. They're being transferred. Their expertise was needed somewhere. Something about a bond forgery in New York. Lizzy, they're gone."

"I'm going to kill them."

"We probably won't ever see them again."

"That's enough. We'll see them again and I will saw off their—"

"Lizzy, relax. It'll be all right. We might need a career switch, but we'll be alright."

"We'll be all right."

**AN: Right, slightly shorter than most chapters, but another one up. I just wanted to clarify something from the last chapter. Most seemed upset that Lizzy would turn on Darcy so easily. It wasn't exactly her turning on Darcy, more like not wanting him in the apartment on the off chance someone else came home with her. She's a bit more tactful than that, no? Anyway, thanks for reading. Much love and best wishes. **

**Zoe**


	20. A Change of Scenery

"Lizzy, sweetheart. Get up." Lizzy refused and finished the box of Twinkies.

It had been five months since the boys had left the case. Jane had gotten a letter from Bingley explaining the whole thing in what he thought were apologetic terms. How it'd been a fantastic opportunity for them and really they had no choice besides and would she please forgive him. Lizzy told her to burn it.

"Jane, there's no point in getting up."

"That's bull and you know it."

"Bull?"

"Yeah, bull."

"Jane, you know we're adults here. You can say shit if you want to."

"I don't."

"Want to?"

"Swear."

"That's shit, pardon my French."

"You're just deflecting. We need to get up and go do something. You haven't been outside in three weeks."

"I don't need outside. I have tea and the BBC."

"Lizzy. Have you been seeing Doctor Gardiner?"

"As you so wisely stated, I haven't been outside."

"You should go talk to her."

"I don't want to talk to her. She's outside." Jane sat down next to Lizzy and opened up the waiting box of Thin Mints.

"What am I going to do with you?"

"Join me. Tea?" Jane took the mug.

"Lizzy, get up."

"No."

"Have you even showered?"

"What's the point?"

"That's disgusting."

"Fear me. FEAR ME AND MY TEENAGE BOY STENCH."

"Christ. I'm taking you out."

"You can't make me."

"Put these on."

"Help! Kidnapping! Murder!"

"Hilarious. We need to get out of the house. Maybe think about a job?"

"Pointless. We're on the dole since they shut our lab down. We'll be fine."

"At least come pick up the takeout with me?"

"Would I have to shower first?"

"How long has it been?" Lizzy scratched her head.

"You don't really want to know."

"Get in the shower."

"I'd rather starve."

"I'll let you." Jane opened the door. "I'll be back in twenty minutes, no fried rice for you." Lizzy stood up.

"Ok, just gimme a second."

"Lizzy! Get up. We're going places."

"Why the hell would we do that?"

"Catherine has been emailing me recently. She said she feels bad about the whole lab shutdown situation and wants to invite us to live with her for a few weeks and discuss other business things."

"I'd rather die."

"To be perfectly honest, we might at this point. You can't exactly make rent on welfare. Get yourself showered and dressed. I'll pack you. We're leaving tonight."

"I really don't want to do this."

"Doesn't matter. We're doing it. Get in the shower or I'll plunk you in there myself." Lizzy grumbled but acquiesced.

After rinsing out the few weeks worth of dandruff and grime from her hair, she put on a pair of yoga pants and a tank top. She threw her hair into a messy bun and dabbed a bit of eyeliner on. After poking her eye, she threw the pencil down and huffed out to the living room, where Jane stood with several suitcases.

"You want the Crocs too?"

"What?"

"Christ, you were serious. Lizzy, this woman might be giving us a job. She's our boss."

"We aren't working now."

"Change your clothes."

"What's the point?"

"God, you're an infant. I put a dress on your bed, which was perfectly made, by the way. Have you been sleeping on the couch?"

"I don't want to talk about it."

"You're vile."

"I'm lovely."

"Change your clothes."

"Yes, captain."

"Hilarious. Change." Lizzy trudged away. She reappeared a few minutes later in a white-ribboned dress with lace straps.

"I hate everything."

"You look lovely. Let's go."

"I don't want to."

"Lizzy, get in the damn car."

"I got you to swear," Lizzy said, walking out the door.

"Shut up," Jane said, closing it.

"Are we there yet?"

"Lizzy, I will stab you in the neck." Lizzy huffed and looked out of the window. They had left the city almost an hour ago and were deep into some sort of forest. Lizzy had tried to fall asleep and couldn't. She was growing upset.

"I'm bored."

"Read a book. Listen to music. Do things people do. It's really not that difficult."

"I don't want to."

"You are clinically incapable of being an adult, aren't you?"

"Why do you say that like it's not a question?"

"It's rhetorical."

"I hate you."

"Love you too."

"Holy shit." The car passed through a tall gate with some sort of monogram in it and onto a gravel road.

"What?"

"Bumpy, is all. What's with the gate?"

"The property started."

"Hell, thanks for making me change." Jane smiled. After driving for a few minutes under impossibly tall oaks, they pulled up in front of a preposterously large house.

"Ok, Jane? That's not a house. That's just ridiculous."

"It's a house, and it's awesome."

"You've been here?"

"One of us has to keep up appearances." Jane pulled the car unto the front drive. A man in a blazer came and took the keys; another grabbed the bags. A third escorted Lizzy and Jane into the main room, where Lady Catherine was perched in a rather large armchair. She wore the requisite gray suit and was surrounded by a small army of adoring minions. She continued speaking her part to those sitting around her, gesturing a hand for the new arrivals to come join her. Jane made for the bathroom and Lizzy hung by the doorway. After speaking for a few more minutes on the minutiae of mortgage detailing, she paused and looked at Lizzy.

"What are you doing still standing? Come, sit."

"I don't see much place to sit, ma'am."

"Nonsense. Richard, stand up and give the lady your seat." A sandy-haired man stood. Lizzy thought he looked vaguely familiar. He smiled and gestured to the seat.

"Of course dearest, I was just leaving." He walked to the door, grinning as he passed Lizzy. He leaned over and whispered, "good luck," before skipping away. Lizzy liked him and accepted her fate. She walked to the chair.

"Lizzy, I was just telling Richard here how sorry I was when your lab was shut down. Really, such a terrible shame. I could have just—oh, Will! Will, do come sit." Lizzy turned to the door, where Darcy was standing. Lizzy's mouth fell open. Darcy grimaced and dashed out of the door.

**Author's Note: Hey, it's a chapter. I consider it progress. I believe I should be wrapping this up in the next five or so chapters, much to the chagrin of absolutely no one. Don't worry, I have some cool ideas for some things in the future. I may go back to one-shots for a while while I write it. Apparently you're supposed to write the whole damn thing before you start posting. No one tells me anything. Thanks for reading and best wishes. **

**Zoe**


	21. A Letter

"Darcy, what the hell?"

"What?"

"Oh don't you dare walk away from me."

"I'm not walking away from you."

"Then why are you moving?"

"I'm just walking. Not away from you. Just walking."

"So your little escape had nothing to do with us?"

"What are you talking about? Just now?"

"To England, you idiot. Scotland Yard, or whatever the hell you were doing?" Darcy scratched his head.

"What about it?"

"You can't just leave cases in the middle. It's not polite. Or just."

"The case was closed."

"And you had nothing to do with that? You and your bloody aunt who apparently runs the criminal justice system?

"I got called to do something else. It's not important. How's it been since I saw you?"

"Five months. Don't try to change the subject."

"What exactly was the subject?"

"I'm yelling at you. Stop trying to distract me."

"Lizzy, you're being ridiculous."

"I'm being perfectly reasonable and you know it. Do you know what you did to us?"

"Elizabeth, dear," they heard from down the hall. "I want to broach a topic with you and I'm keenly interested to learn your opinions on the new theories of computational blood spatter analysis?" Lizzy huffed. Darcy nodded to the door.

"You've been summoned."

"This isn't over."

"Why would I think I could get off that easy?"

* * *

Catherine monopolized Lizzy for the rest of the afternoon and dinner. After nine or so, Lizzy excused herself, claiming indigestion. Catherine reminded her that, given the world class cooking abilities possessed by the chefs, it would be impossible for her to be sick from their food. Lizzy feigned lactose intolerance and proceeded to her rooms. She changed into an old t-shirt of hers and let her hair down. She climbed into bed and started to read before hearing a knock on the door. She called for them to come in. Darcy entered.

"Hell do you want?" She asked. He paced slightly, opening his mouth and closing it again. "Spit it out. You look like a fish." He looked at her.

"Marry me." Lizzy laughed. Seeing his face grow red, she stopped.

"You're serious."

"I wish I was not. Surely you can understand my hesitance. Your family, your current state of employment, living conditions. Everything about you screams for me to let you be, yet I cannot."

"I hesitate to see what objections you could have to my family, considering they're all dead."

"You're a lower class obsessed with money. It's plainly obvious. It's enough to watch your sister latch her claws around Charles, but the manner in which your family died—"

"How can you say that of Jane? You doubt her feelings for him?"

"Oh, it's plain to anyone who looks that she doesn't love him. Not a word of encouragement nor love. After his sister died, he groped for any semblance of affection and your sister sunk her teeth into him."

"You think she doesn't love him."

"Of course she doesn't love him. She can't even vocalize the word. She doesn't show her feelings, not even to the man she supposedly loves."

"My sister barely shows her feelings to me!" she shouted. The two were silent for a moment.

"I have clearly misread the situation, allow me cause you no further trouble." He made for the door.

"What did you say about the manner in which my family died?" she asked. He shook his head as he left the room. Lizzy couldn't help but begin to cry. She turned the light out.

* * *

Lizzy walked down to breakfast with red eyes.

"Lizzy," Jane asked, "Are you ok? I thought I heard shouting last night"

"It's fine. Don't worry about it." She sat down. Richard looked up from the paper.

"Rough night?" Lizzy stared at him. He looked back down. "He left you a letter, in case you were wondering."

Catherine blustered in in a sea of chiffon and brocade. Lizzy couldn't help wondering who was crazy enough to wear stilettos at nine in the morning, but she brushed the thought from her mind. She ate little and retrieved the letter Richard possessed. She went for a walk on the grounds.

_Elizabeth, _

_ Remembering the severity of your words last night, I found it wisest to pose this to you through the written word. You lay several accusations upon me. I felt the need to protect what shreds of my honor remain. _

_ Charles has always been one to win over easily. His family had a penchant for dying young. He took to drinking rather a lot, and the women he met in bars weren't exactly after eternal love and companionship. He was lucky enough to have enough familial wealth to go into whatever profession he chose. Unfortunately, such wealth does come with the women who see you only for the size of your wallet. His wealth has been diminished over the years by such women. That's not nearly as important as his heart, of course. Don't think me callous. I saw him fall for your sister, and her rather distinct lack of affection towards him. I'm a detective; you can't blame me for jumping to a conclusion based on past evidence. _

_ As to my derogation towards your family. I must first inform you that these past five months have been spent in worthwhile investigation, not to destroy the careers of you and your sister, but to investigate the deaths of your parents. Unfortunately, since you are family, I can't share the intimate details of the actual deaths, as most is speculation, but I can assure you of a few things. Your family, it pains me to say it, was not one to be missed. Your father worked in rare books, as you know. He collected them, mostly from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, and cut the bindings, bleaching the papers. He would then forge bonds and the like. Your mother worked in similar fashion, petty thievery, embezzlement, and the like. I apologize for the information, but perhaps I just felt the need to explain myself. Perhaps now you'll think poorly enough of me to do what I ask you next._

_ Having explained thus far, I wish you not to think of these words again. Let it not trouble your mind nor furrow your brow. This is in the past. I am in the past. I implore you. Forget me. _

_Regards, _

_William Darcy_

"That bastard. That complete and utter bastard. I could just—"

"You're shouting, Miss." Lizzy turned.

"Richard, was it?"

"That'd be me, at your service." He took a bow.

"How long ago did Darcy leave? I'm sure I could catch him if I grabbed a car, he's a far too responsible driver." She began to walk back towards the house.

"He didn't leave." Lizzy turned.

"What?"

"He didn't leave. He's been hiding out in his room all morning. He nipped down for a coffee at one point, asked me to check on you, but he's still here."

"Where's his room?"

"My dear lady!"

"Second floor?"

"Third door on the left." He reached into his pocket. "Here's a key."

* * *

"You bastard, you complete and utter bastard."

"Jesus, Lizzy, what?"

"That letter? Are you shitting me?" He flushed.

"Can you give me a minute until I respond?" he asked. Lizzy realized he was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and black socks, nothing else.

"No, you can't just give me that and pretend to be gone and…" she sniffled and wiped her nose. "People don't do that." Darcy looked down.

"I want you to forget me. I'm asking you to forget me. Another agent can be assigned to your case if it's reopened. You can keep working with the FBI, I'll get you contacts, give you a good recommendation. Just leave me and forget me. For your own sake. I've put you in too much danger as it is." Lizzy took a step towards him. "I'll be leaving tonight," he said, "And then we can just continue on with our lives. Like we're supposed to."

"Please stay."

"I can't. You know I can't."

"That's crap."

"You need to let me go," he said, looking at his fidgeting toes. "You just need to let me go."

"You bastard. You complete and utter bastard." She pressed her lips to his. They lingered for a moment before separating.

"We shouldn't do this," he said. She giggled.

"All about the rules, aren't you?" He smiled.

* * *

They lay in bed, sheets draped over them.

"God," Lizzy said. "I could get used to California kings in every room." Darcy smiled.

"You're perfect, you know that?

"How could I be anything else?"

"I still have to leave."

"I thought you might say that."

"This wasn't to try to change my mind, was it?"

"Course not. More to reaffirm something else."

"You still dating that bastard?"

"You haven't met him."

"I'm biased."

"I'm not dating him."

"I was happy. Now I'm in bliss." He kissed her on the nose.

**Author's Note: Thanks for sticking with me, those of you that have. This time it's for real, and ain't that exciting. **

**Much love and best wishes,**

**Zoe**


	22. A Gentleman's Agreement

Lizzy stretched and rose, arching her back as she yawned. She padded out to the balcony, wrapping herself in a robe and slipping on the closest pair of shoes. She scraped her hair from her forehead, twisting it back in a bun. She felt a pair of hands grasp her wrists.

"I like your hair down," he said.

"I like it when you leaving my hair alone," she replied. She felt his hands wrap around her waist. "What time is it?"

"About four in the afternoon. Why?"

"They're gonna wonder where we went."

"I told Richard we were gong for a walk. I'm sure they won't worry too much."

"Jane's gonna ask questions."

"Let her." Lizzy turned her head.

"What are we gonna do about this?"

"What is there to really do?"

"Are we…?"

"If you want."

"What do you want to do?"

"Lizzy, I want to marry you. As long as you don't disappear from my life, I can live with any option you throw at me." Lizzy looked out across the grounds of the estate. Green hills rolled into blue mountains. Carp trolled lazily in ponds and squirrels scurried about in flutters of activity. The sun glimmered behind a thin veil of clouds, gilded rose spattered in an azure sky. It was getting cold, and Darcy tucked her into his body. She inhaled and closed her eyes. He smelled of wood smoke and juniper, sweaty and clean at once. She smiled as they stood.

Lizzy sat on a sofa, her head resting on Darcy's chest.

"I have a question."

"Is it importunate?"

"Entirely," she said. He chuckled.

"Go ahead."

"You said my father was—"

"Lizzy, wait. Do you really want to talk about this?"

"You said my father was a forger, hiding in being a bookbinder, and he was. But there was a stretch of time, least for a little while, that he worked for the UN. That's why we moved to the states, why my family is…" she cleared her throat. "Something just doesn't make sense." Darcy stroked her hair.

"I know honey, I know. Keep in mind, everything I found is off the grid and mostly ungrounded. There's not all too much proof yet. I just have to keep digging."

"Don't."

"Why not?"

"I don't want to know. I can't think of them how they might have been. I remember what I was, what they were, and I…" she sniffled, "I want to keep that. I don't want that to do away. Don't make that go away." He stroked her head and kissed her.

"I promise," he said. She curled her toes into his. She liked how she fit against him, curled into his body as he lay under her. Her hair draped over his collarbone, pooling on the cushions resting behind his neck. She draped her arms across him and drifted to sleep.

"I love you," she heard him whisper as her eyes fell shut.

**AN: Once again, only apologies. Applying to college can be a bitch. **

**Much love and best wishes, **

**Zoe**


	23. An Event

Lizzy awoke in a shuffle of sheets and low-pitched musings.

"Darcy, what's going on?

"I'm so sorry, honey. I have to go."

"Where are you going?"

"I'm sorry, honey. I have to…I have to go. Urgent case stuff. You know, never off call and all that." He kissed her forehead. "You have no grasp of how sorry I am." He gave a shuffle to her hair. "I love you," he said, as he left the room.

Lizzy wrapped herself in his robe and put her hair in a bun over her head. She curled into the sofa next to the window. It still smelled like him. She inhaled deeply, wood smoke and juniper. Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten in what felt like 73 days, though what was perhaps closer to sixteen hours. She walked back to her room, bowlegged, staggering about. She felt tired, an all-encompassing tired that ate at her bones and gnawed at her stomach and tickled her spine and knit around her ribs. Least, she called it tired.

She crawled to her room and sat on her bed. She wanted to cry, to bawl and weep for reasons she was entirely unsure of. Well, that wasn't true, not really. She knew why she wanted to fall into a hole of misery and die a thousand deaths. Why she was ready to jump off that god-forsaken balcony and end it all then.

She had told herself she wouldn't be that kind of girl. She was self-assured and all that shit, a 21st century woman with 21st century skills. She wouldn't be the type who let men get the best of her, no. She would be strong and work until she died and be entirely self-sufficient and dress fabulously with a string of pearls and twirl a long cigarette like Audrey Hepburn. Well, no cigarette. She had seen the ashen lungs in school. But she would be her own person. So why didn't she feel whole without him?

It had come along slowly, then all at once. She guessed most things like that did.

She'd always been one in love with the world. When she was a child, she'd idolized teachers, fallen head-over-heels on the playground. She'd had her pigtails pulled and dipped in ink and still she loved. She loved fiercely, more than anything. Hell, more than Jane.

She'd hit her pubescent angst same as anyone, and had the leftover ear piercings to prove it. She'd still loved then, though she'd channeled it elsewhere. She craved music and food and thought to kill herself but fell in love with the romanticism of darkness. She'd loved darkness until it had infected her life.

When her family had…when it had happened, she'd stopped. Cold turkey, she'd called it. Called it being strong. She'd dashed from humanity, relished in the dead. It was safer that way. People who had already left couldn't leave again. They couldn't hurt you, not when you were the one slicing them open.

Then he had shown up. The bastard, with his stupid moppy hair and sparkling eyes and impossible abs and well tailored suits. The bastard, with his over-protective tendencies and A+ cooking skills and troubled history that begged for her to love him. How was she supposed to turn him away? She hated him for making her love him. She was ready to kill him, and it made her want to cry.

She shuddered slightly, wiping her hair from her forehead and stirring herself. She would be fine. She would always be fine.

She walked downstairs, clad in a red shirtdress. Her feet were bare; she hoped Catherine wouldn't mind.

Richard and Jane were sitting, heads together, discussing the whims of their own lives. Catherine was cooing to some small rodent masquerading as a dog. Lizzy plucked a book from a shelf and tucked herself into a chair. Her hair fell to the side and she fussed with it. Catherine glared at her bare feet.

"Elizabeth, darling. We haven't seen you in DAYS," she drawled. Jane looked up.

"Lizzy, is everything all right?" She wiped at her eyes.

"Fine, pitch-perfect and all that." Richard looked at her quizzically. She turned her head.

"Elizabeth, I've been meaning to pick your brain about the proper methods of rehydrating mummified bodies for the obtainment of fingerprints. Everything they do on television is so wrong, and I'd be interested to get your perspective on this process. I've always found it a necessary evil of dealing with the dead."

"Yes, identifying the body is occasionally important," Lizzy murmured.

"I was meaning to ask William the same question, but of course he had to leave so soon and I just didn't get the opportunity." Jane looked at Lizzy. Lizzy looked down. "The poor boy is just so married to his job. Why, for the past five months he's been running down the odds and ends of a mass murder that occurred years ago. A whole family dead, just a few surviving. That is my William, always entranced in improving the lives of everyone around him. He really is just astounding."

"I'm sorry, Catherine, but could I borrow my sister for a moment?" Jane stood up and pointed a finger at Lizzy. "Just family matters, won't be a second."

"Oh, darling, of course not. So, Richard, it has been so awfully long since we've talked. How are the dogs? And that little blonde thing you were seeing—"

Jane pulled Lizzy from the room.

"Lizzy, what was she talking about back there?"

"Oh, you know Catherine, always blabbering on about one thing or another. A damned nuisance most of the time. You know that. Really, I think she just makes half of it up as she goes along. Honestly, she's so entirely ridiculous, I wouldn't be surprised if this wasn't actually her house. Doesn't it all seem a bit fishy to you? She is just our…whatever she is. Besides, we're not even running right now. We haven't done a case in months. She can't be making that much—"

"Lizzy, you're rambling. What was Darcy doing these past months?"

"I don't know. Why would you ask me, it's not like we've been speaking or anything like that. I know just as much as you do. Probably, less, because people don't really trust me with these things. I could never understand why. I mean, I have FBI clearance. Why don't people believe I can keep a secret? It's just—"

"Lizzy, honey, relax." Jane put her hands around her shoulders. "We all know what happened between you and Darcy. Well, probably except Catherine. She's too enveloped in her own world to give the slightest thought to anything going on about her."

"You mean, you and Richard know that he…that we?"

"Yeah, the poor boy's been eyeing you for months. Everyone knows he's in love with you. We're honestly shocked it didn't happen sooner. Frankly, everyone knew he was going to propose. No shock to anyone that you turned him down though. You've always been visibly disgusted with the poor boy. No wonder he stormed out in such a hurry, why both of you were cowering in your rooms all morning. The shouting was a bit hard to miss but, no harm done. He's gone and you're fine. And you still haven't answered my question."

"What question?" Lizzy was shaking, though she exhaled feverishly.

"Lizzy, are you alright?"

"Fine, just, you know, whirlwind of emotions and all that."

"Oh, honey." Jane pulled her into a hug. "We love you no matter what, don't worry. It's all right. I can't believe he would propose. I mean, it's Darcy. And you're you."

"I'm not sure it really counted as proposing."

"Oh, honey, course it didn't. You're fine don't worry about it. You're fragile right now." Lizzy began to fake-cry exuberantly. "Sweetie, it's all going to be alright."

Lizzy almost melted in her sister's arms.

The four had settled into a pleasant quiet throughout the afternoon. Catherine, upon realizing the exhaustion setting in after tea, amused herself by staring at Lizzy, perhaps in the hope that she would spontaneously combust. Jane caught up on the assorted paperwork that came with running a lab that wasn't running. Richard had begun a book of crosswords (Lizzy noticed he only did the Mondays). Lizzy had helped herself to the large collection of first editions at her disposal. For someone who didn't seem to read much of anything, Catherine had quite the library. After struggling through the first pages of "The Sound and the Fury," she sighed to herself and thought to get something reasonable. She distinctly remembered volunteering at a library when she was younger. She was in charge of binding the discussion guides for book groups, and she remembered the Faulkner ones. Always longer than the books they discussed. She laughed to herself and stood, smoothing her dress. Catherine still hadn't commented on her feet, though she was giving a look that could easily kill all of the bacteria that might be living on the floor. Lizzy felt she had nothing to worry about.

She hummed quietly as she searched the shelves for something familiar. She felt like something calming, something familiar. In a fit of high school melancholy, she pulled a copy of Hamlet.

Despite her heritage, she'd never really loved Shakespeare. Always thought it mind numbing and dull. She'd had an English teacher in high school who had forced it, thought it a rite of passage into the adult world to at least have a basic understanding of Billy Shakes. They'd started with the Tempest, though Lizzy had little taste for it. Too magic, too improbable. And Miranda had gotten on her nerves. Course, then they'd started Hamlet. Hamlet, in his infinitesimal wisdom and perpetual inaction. The wrong character for his story. She'd become engrossed.

The teacher had left in a fit of some sort. Some great scandal. No one was really sure of it, but he and Lizzy had kept in touch. Letters and the like. She thought she still had them, somewhere.

She sat down in her chair, nestling into the cushions. She inhaled the scent of the book, musty pages with worn corners in an ancient leather binding. She smiled softly and opened to the prologue. Words, words, words.

After a few hours, Catherine couldn't help but exclaim. She'd clearly grown bored with the meditative silence and thought to open a group discussion on the merits of social networking. As Lizzy was the youngest, all questions were fielded to her and her perceived indiscretions that had been posted on the Internet.

"I find it quite vulgar," she said, "This insistence with a virtual life. Posting and reblogging and twittering and all of this nonsense. The verbal skills of these people barely past infancy. Why, I dare say the end of the world can be forecasted."

"They did that," mumbled Richard.

"Yes, yes," Catherine said, waving her hand. "All of this Mayan malarkey. I wouldn't mind so much should anyone produce something even resembling a reasonable argument. My, the language, the grammar."

"Actually, I think it represents a certain metamorphosis to English as we see it."

"Surely a reader of Shakespeare can't see any merit into what is said."

"Actually, I can. Grammar was invented solely to ease communication, to foster conversation between those who otherwise wouldn't be able to understand each other. If these people can now communicate, why, hasn't language succeeded?" Lizzy looked back to her book as Catherine began to grumble to herself.

"I believe it's time for supper," she said finally.

The four shuffled into the dining room for some contrived meal of dubious culinary merit. They settled into an easier conversation. Light topics, the weather and such. Long as Catherine didn't get too many ideas, it wouldn't be too miserable.

They settled into an easy routine for the next two weeks. Late breakfast, daily walks, light reading, miserable conversation. That weekend, Lizzy found herself exhausted of her relaxing vacation and begged Jane to go home. After a few hours of groveling, she acquiesced.

They said their goodbyes and piled into the car. Lizzy watched the trees roll by ad Jane drove. She sang. Jane had always had a habit of singing when it was just her and Lizzy.

"Jane?"

"Yeah?"

"It's gonna be alright, right?"

"Course hon. Though I'm not entirely sure what you're talking about."

"Just, everything. It's going to be alright, right?"

"Course, it always is. We're good that way. We know how to survive." She patted Lizzy on the shoulder. "Go to sleep hon, we'll be there in a few hours." Lizzy yawned and nodded off to the sound of Jane's voice.

Jane walked up the stairs to Lizzy's apartment, dragging bags as Lizzy staggered behind her.

"You really need to find a building with an elevator. Maybe a doorman too."

"Yeah, yeah. You've told me. It's hilarious every time." Lizzy yawned.

"You still tired? Jesus, you slept the whole way home."

"Haven't been sleeping well."

"You sure you're ok? Want me to pick you up anything?"

"Nah, I'll live. I'll forage in the morning." Jane nodded and smiled. She headed for the door but turned.

"Call me in the morning, ok? We'll do breakfast."

"Yep, promise." Jane smiled and shut the door behind her.

Lizzy was home, her glorious, fabulous, wonderful home. IKEA furniture and carpets she could spill on and a bed with a heating pad built in. yes, she was home. And it was brilliant. She fell promptly to sleep.

She woke around midnight. Her stomach rumbled and she sighed. She meandered to the fridge. She found a box of cereal and a brick of old cheese, thought neither safe and resigned herself to starvation. Then she remembered.

Chinese food.

A new 24-hour takeout joint had opened about a block from her apartment. If she called it in now, she could pick it up in less than fifteen minutes, snarf it in less than ten, and be back in bed before she realized what she was doing to her waistline. Yes, she thought to herself, perfect plan.

After babbling something incoherent to the poor waitress, she pulled some boots over her flannel and grabbed a sweater. She's overestimated, and there were less than ten minutes before she could have Chinese food. Delicious, lovely, perfect Chinese food. Oh, she'd missed takeout.

She locked the door and stumbled down the stairs. MSG, MSG, she sang to herself. She walked outside. It had gotten chilly since she had left. She wondered how long till summer started again, though her thoughts were interrupted as a large object of unknown origin hit the back of her head. She could have sworn she'd felt her brain bounce of her skull, though she didn't think much as she fell to the ground. A pair of hands in black leather gloves heaved her into a car. The door was slammed shut and, with a slam of the car door and a quick squeal of tires, the Lotus drove away.

**AN: Here we go!**


	24. A Brief Interlude

She was back with him. Warm, safe. He smiled at her, that moppy hair grown long and falling into his eyes. She smiled and stretched. He was bliss, warm and soft and strong. Her knight in shining armor. The bastard.

She loved him. She knew that now. They were sitting outside, lying in some sand on an unnamed island. All they did was lie there. It was peaceful, not speaking, not thinking. She listened to his breathing, inhaling and exhaling. She rested her head on his chest, her head softly rising and falling. She looked up at him. Her hair was splayed across his stomach. She was sure it tickled him but he didn't mind. He ran his hands through it every so often. She was warm and comfortable. He just looked at her and he smiled and she was happy.

* * *

Elizabeth heard a mumbling as her head swam into clarity. It was a soft sob, punctuated with a rattling of bars and cries of anguish. Her head hurt like hell, she knew that much.

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth. I'm so, so sorry." She couldn't quite place the voice and her head hurt too much to spend too much time with it. She rubbed the back of her neck. It was warm and tender, large and protruding under hair, and she knew that if she were to open her eyes and look at her hand, it would have a light layer of congealed blood on it. She didn't want to open her eyes, but she was a curious soul and thought she might as well get it over with.

The room was dark. Boarded windows, old brick, a ceiling about to cave in. Whoever had done this sure had gone with the classics. She wasn't bound, and her hands reached forward to rattle the cages in front of her. Rusted, but sturdy. She heard the weeping behind her, sobs muffled in repeated apologies. She turned to look.

"Rat bastard." The green eyes looked up at her. Well, one of them. The other was swollen shut. They had gone red, and the skin around them had puffed in a grey purple mess that seemed to splatter down the side of the face. Bruising, by the looks of it. Made with something large and unidentified.

"Elizabeth, let me explain."

"What the hell could you possibly have to explain to me?"

"Why you're here. Why I'm here. It's all my fault."

"Cailean, I don't know what you're trying to tell me." The man looked down.

"Wickham," he mumbled. "Call me Wickham."

"Course you're Wickham, should've guessed. Anything else you'd like to tell me? Lie about, perhaps? You're very good at it." He looked at her blankly. "Come on, everything with Darcy. I know the truth. I looked it up, did my research this time. Everything he said was true. You're a rat bastard and now you're going to kill me." He scratched his head.

"I can argue dissent as to your last assumption. I'm not going to kill you."

"Because that makes me feel so much better." She stood up to pace, wobbled a bit, grabbed the bars, felt her head, and sat back down.

"Please allow me the courtesy of explaining."

"Go for it. Why the fuck not? Not like we have anything else to do." The man sighed and leaned back. His knuckles were bruised and a line of blood smattered down his chest, staining his shirt in a large pool above his stomach.

"When I was younger, I was taken in my a rather generous family. I'll admit, I harbored my share of anger towards the privileged children, and I'm man enough to admit my emotions were entirely unwarranted. Darcy was always smarter than me, taller, better-looking." He looked up at Lizzy, who had blushed at the mention of him. "I should have known you would end up with him sooner or later. It's the natural course of my life. I…umm…I made some bad decisions. Joined the army. Advanced up through the course of things. I acquired a certain skill-set, one with rather limited application outside of my natural atmosphere. I had done all right while in the military, but I was discharged after a rather unfortunate meeting with some explosives. Blew a bit of my leg off. They got it all back together, but they didn't want me in the field.

"I had disability, but I could still work. I needed to work, and couldn't really bring myself to. I took to drinking at those bars that offer a discount to the men who come home. I got in with a bad bunch. A group of guys like me who were low, who needed the money. They knew about me, about where I came from. They offered me a deal. I give them an address and I deal with the will. We would split the money, I wouldn't get my hands dirty." He shuddered and wiped a tear from his eye. "I…uh…I needed the money.

"We got into a habit, the guys and I, preying on the ones with daddy issues. We would make an offer; give us the address and half the will, and you would come flush. It worked for a while. Don't look at me like that. We do dumb things when we got to.

"I couldn't take it after a while. It's tough on a man, being the devil. I couldn't tell you what I've done, but the count is past two hands. Probably past three or four. I always spent the money too fast, and the guys made me do it again. I was good at what I did, 'til I couldn't take it anymore. I quit, did the right thing eventually. Well, most of the right thing. Changed my name, moved across the ocean. Tried to make a name for myself in something reasonable. Tried, real hard. Never made much progress. Worked menial jobs for a while, made ends meet.

"The problem with trying to get back on the right side of life is that no one will ever let you forget what you've done before. There's always someone waiting to rope you back into what you've done. I'm not a good man, Elizabeth. I'm not even an alright man. I'm a despicable example of what a person can be when they've twisted themselves into something inhuman. I'm going to hell when I die, and I don't think that'll be very long from now." He sniffled. "I…umm…I'm not looking for forgiveness or sympathy. I just want someone to know.

"After I'd been here a few years, I thought I'd figured myself out. Put myself together. I met a girl, a real sweet one. Allison. I had a picture somewhere. We had a dog, a small apartment together. But, fairytales don't exist, right? Not for people like me. Always Wickham, never Darcy. No, they found me, eventually. Someone always does. They'd heard through the grapevine I had skills, and they didn't care about me. They knew what I had done, and they weren't threatening to take me to the police. They needed work that could be covered up." He was silent for a moment. "They took her, killed the dog. Told me to stand my ass up and be a man and do what I was meant to do. I should have gone to the police, and I know that. But I was terrible, I was selfish. I…umm.

"They wanted you. Something about cleaning up a mess they'd made earlier. I needed her back, and they needed you. I know it's my fault. All this wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been me. Elizabeth. Don't forgive me, and don't forget me. Please."

Lizzy heard a gunshot and felt something warm splatter her front. Wickham lay on the ground, eyes glazed open, bits of gray matter sticking to the bars behind him. His hair fanned over the ground, mingling in the red mush splurting from his skull. Lizzy screamed. She heard a pair of boots clicking against the floor behind her.

"I think we've had quite enough of his yammering, don't you?"

**AN: Ok, making progress with this bloody thing. Anyway, should be keeping to a relatively normal and reasonable upload schedule, as I have midterms coming up and don't want to do anything. Yay for senioritis. **

**Best wishes, **

**Zoe**


	25. A Change of Pace

**Be forewarned, this might get a little bloody for some.**

Lizzy turned. The woman was blonde and tall, pale with slightly rosy cheeks. She was well-dressed, fitted blazer and black jeans. Lizzy was pretty sure she'd seen the shirt at Anthro; probably one of the things she coveted and prayed would eventually make it to the sale rack. The woman's hair was tied back in something resembling a fishtail. There was a small spot of carbon on her right index finger, just next to the nail bed. She placed the gun on the rickety table next to her. She walked over to Lizzy, heels on her black leather boots clicking against the floor. She rested a slender hand on the bar of Lizzy's cage. Her nails were painted a furious red.

"I know you haven't met me before," the woman cooed, "But I thought I'd like to keep it a bit of a surprise. You see," she turned, "I don't get to do this too often, and it's never this much fun. Going after one of her own, one of her pets?" The woman giggled. "Oh, it's just too much for me to handle."

"Who are you?" Lizzy said softly.

"That comes later, darling. I just want to enjoy the moment." The woman took a deep inhale, laughing on the exhale. "Oh, it's just too good to be true. I've done it. I…I just have so many people I'd like to thank." She giggled to herself. "Oh, yes. This is excellent." She smiled, a large, toothy grin that enveloped her face, Cheshire-like. She looked at Lizzy. "You'll probably be wanting an explanation, yeah?" Lizzy nodded, clutching her arms to her knees. The woman shrugged her shoulders. "I guess I could be so inclined."

"My mother's pets have always bugged me. You can understand, given your sisters. Divided attention and all that. She picks you folk up like trinkets. Showers you with affection, at least in her own special way. Always drove me bloody crazy. I'm sure you could understand such a thing. Though, perhaps I already said that." The woman giggled.

"I'm not quite in the mood for such a description." Lizzy stood, grasping the bars with both hands.

"You promised. You said that…you said…"

"I lied. People lie." The woman walked towards Lizzy, resting a slim finger on her cheek and caressing it softly. Lizzy barely felt the soft prick of a hypodermic needle in her left hip.

* * *

She awoke, naked, wrapped in plastic. She gasped for air through the hole above her mouth. She blinked furiously. She couldn't see, it was bright. Too bright. The woman sat there, leaning forward, elbows pressed against her knees. She had her chin tucked in her hands.

"I wouldn't worry too much, I shan't kill you yet. I just want to talk. Least for now. Now, Elizabeth, why do you do what you do?" Lizzy sucked in air.

"To stop people like you."

"No, no, no, that's not the right answer." The woman stood and let a blade linger over the skin on Lizzy's stomach. Her flesh quivered under the blade, pressing in and out. She was breathing heavily. She cried in pain as the knife slashed her skin. Blood pooled in the wound, dripping down her side and gathering on the table below her. The slow trickle echoed in her ear, a dull pounding pulsating against her temples. She pulled against her restraints to no avail. The sweat began to pour down her forehead. She bit her lips to keep from screaming. She tasted metal.

"Darling, tell me, why do you do what you do?"

"To…to help people."

"No, no." The woman made another incision. Lizzy bit her tongue again. "You don't care about people. You hate people just as much as I do. You have that demon inside of you too. I know it. You've just been weaker than I." The woman stood, crossing her arms behind her back. "You let morals and civilization, society, get in the way of your purpose—your true purpose, let the truth be told. Why, we cultivate you to be part of us, and you ran away from it. Yes, you ran away. Little Elizabeth Bennet, always running from who she ought to be. Does darling Jane know of the dreams you have at night, when you walk drenched in the blood of innocents, listening to the cries of children, the anguished mothers weeping? Have you dared enlighten Bingley? Sweet, darling Charles, only caring to make the world a better place. He'd dare not speak to you should you mention the nights of pacing, of screaming, furious anger punctuated with proclamations of murder." She turned to look at Lizzy. "And Darcy, does he know of the graves you've left behind." Lizzy cried out.

"You're lying to me."

"Perhaps you're only lying to yourself. Isn't that what Gardiner told you?"

"How do… you…know…Gardiner?" she breathed.

"We're rather good friends. She's told me so much about you. . Oh, you go by a different name now. You've changed your accent, your hair-quite honestly darling, I think it's time to touch up your roots—but when she told me of our dreams, your nightmares, I knew you were the girl I'd found so long ago." The woman paused. "I don't look my age. I'm much older than you would suspect, and the blood on my hands could stain a thousand men. We knew you would be special. It didn't take much to root you out when you were a child. We needed to, how you say, instill the nightmares. It's been a game all along, a great fantastic game. Why, I smile at the genius of it. It's worked out swimmingly, brilliantly, and you all deserve a medal for playing out your parts. It's a shame what's had to be done to reel you back in. You've done a good job but, I'm afraid, the game is up." She took a final slash at Lizzy's stomach. She clenched, vomiting in her mouth. She heard the smash of a kicked down door and the pounding of footsteps.

"Well look at that," the woman said. "I do believe we have a visitor." She clicked away in her high-heeled boots. Lizzy moaned and heard voices.

"Where is she?" she heard him say. There was anger in his voice, pain.

"Darling, how nice to see you again."

"Anne, I can't play this game with you. Where is she?"

Elizabeth clenched her teeth as she drifted off into silence.

**Author's Note: And that's that. Hope to update soon. **

**Zoe**


	26. An Awakening

Lizzy awoke in a sea of lights and humming machines. Her stomach was killing her. She looked down at her gauze-wrapped flesh and felt the immediate need to empty her stomach. She leaned over the side of the bed and vomited. She felt a hand pull her hair back.

Her eyes had gone all swimmy with the effort of movement. She fell back into bed, pupils flitting across the room, desperate to find purchase. She closed them. Everything was soft and warm. Someone was hugging her, embracing her. Someone was warm. Warm and comfortable. She could have gone to sleep.

She heard a soft crying as she lay back down. Not a loud, snot-ridden sob, but the quiet weeping of someone drowning in a whirlpool of emotion. She felt a kiss on her forehead. She smiled as she drifted off to sleep.

* * *

She woke without the ringing in her ears. She opened her eyes slowly; she could manage nothing else. She was a in a hospital bed. A bit comfier than the hospitals she was used to, but there was no mistaking the dull pain of an IV. Her stomach killed and she had a wretched headache, but she figured most of that would wear off eventually. Memories were hazy, piercing her mind in quick flashes of agony. She felt herself begin to gag again, fluctuations of her stomach calming when she realized there was nothing there to dispel. She coughed instead, then heard a rustle a few feet away. Darcy, who appeared to have been sleeping on the couch, sat up and commenced a series of yawns. He looked at her while a slow grin spread across his face.

"You're awake. They told me you might not be awake for a few days. I was so worried, but you're…" he scratched his head, "you're awake."

"Yeah," she said, looking at him. "I'm awake." He ran to her, pulling her into his arms.

"I really thought I'd lost you," he said, sniffling slightly and throwing himself on her. "I couldn't bear to think I'd lost you."

"Easy tiger, still a bit sore in the stomach region."

"Sorry, sorry." He peeled himself off of her and stumbled away, running a hand through his hair. "I just, I couldn't. I've prayed to more deities than there are religions. I've asked more favors for more omnipotent beings than are to be acknowledged by any one person. Elizabeth Bennet, my life has been hell for the past few days." He ran his hand through his hair, something she had just recently realized was a nervous habit. "You're awake."

"How long was I really out?"

"Three days, give or take. You were unconscious for a while, then there was the surgery, and they wanted to keep you out for a while, just because of the pain."

"Who was that girl?" Darcy stiffened.

"She's been dealt with." Lizzy raised an eyebrow.

"Dealt with?"

"It's none of your concern."

"Darcy. Whoever that was, she tried to kill me. I deserve to know."

"Elizabeth." His voice was firmer than it ought to have been. "Consider it dealt with." She flopped into the pillows silently. She heard him pad over to her, felt him wrap his arms around her. "Lizzy, I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

As they lay together, she began to cry.

* * *

Lizzy woke to a scuffle as Jane and Bingley tumbled into the room. Darcy was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh, Lizzy." Jane threw herself upon the bed. Lizzy muffled a groan of pain. "I've missed you so much. I was so worried. We were here for the first few nights but I had to go deal with paperwork at the lab and all that. It's reopened; don't know if he told you. Darcy was such a dear to keep an eye on everything for me. He's downstairs getting coffee now. The poor guy needs it. I'm not sure he's even left the hospital since you two got here. He rode in the ambulance. Dealt with all of the case, brought that …monster in. Really took care of everything. I'm so-," she wiped a tear from her eye, "I'm just so thankful."

"Don't sing my praises to much," Darcy said as he walked in. "Just doing my jo-." His sentence was quickly concluded as Jane threw herself at him.

"Thank you," she mumbled through tears. She collected herself and pawed at her eyes. "I have to go check in with the doctors. I'll be right back." She gave Lizzy a quick kiss on the cheek and left with Bingley in tow.

"What was that about?" Lizzy asked.

"She really loves you. She'd just happy to see you're all right. I called her just after you fell back asleep."

"Wanted to keep me all to yourself, did you?"

"Something like that."

"So, what about her and Bingley?"

"They…umm. He came to see if you were all right. Jane needed a break, and I told him to take her out for a drink. They had a long talk and are all sorted out. Least, that's how it appears." He gave an easy grin that told it all.

"That's foul."

"They're adults, they can make their own decisions."

"Doesn't mean it's not disgusting. Can I have some of that?"

"The doctor says you're not supposed to have caffeine."

"Doctor be damned. I haven't had a coffee in days." He sighed.

"Just this once. And don't say I never did anything for you." Lizzy took a grateful sip, relishing in the burnt tongue.

"You are the most excellent man to have ever graced the earth."

"Marry me." She nearly spat the coffee out.

"What?"

"Elizabeth, I have been phenomenally in love with you since the day I met you. And, when I'd thought I lost you, I thought I'd have to end myself. I know it's soon and preposterous and ridiculous, but I have to ask, if simply for my own well being." He looked up at the tears in her eyes. "No, you're right. It's too soon. Please, ignore me." He stood, stumbled, and sat down. "I'm sorry for putting you in this position. Please excuse me." He stood and made for the door.

"Yes," she whispered against her own better judgment. It was Darcy's turn to splutter.

"What?"

"Yes. I said yes." A smile arched across his face. He held up a finger and dashed out of the room. He returned about thirty seconds later, slightly out of breath with cheeks red. He knelt next to her bed, pulling a ring from his breast pocket. Three diamonds, two pear-shaped surrounding something preposterously large.

"You're been meaning to do this," she said.

"I bought this the day we got put on the case together."

"A little optimistic, don't you think?"

"Perhaps." He slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly.

* * *

The doctors insisted on rolling Lizzy out in a wheelchair, though they practically had to sedate her to accomplish their mission. Once free of the dreaded thing, she slid into Darcy's car.

"Will I ever get an explanation?"

"Lizzy, please don't make me do this."

"I should know."

"I'll tell you if you really feel the need."

"You don't have to protect me."

"I know I don't have to protect you, I just…I just want to."

"Knight in shining armor, the only want to protect me is to truly tell me what happened." He groaned.

"Anne was my cousin. She exhibited early signs of madness, the torturing of animals, manipulation of her friends, and the like. She grew close with Wickham, closer than she should have, though no one truly knew the exact nature of their relationship. When he left, she grew distraught, manic even. She got in with some bad habits, some bad people. No one heard from her for years. The only connection she had was with Wickham, who I feel forced to forgive on some level, though I'm not certain I'll ever be able to stomach that. He wrote a letter with his sob story, and I feel somewhat obligated to believe it. He maintains he did it for the money, helping those who needed it, who had gotten into debt. Anne got into the habit of taking out those she felt necessary. I've been looking for her for years. When I heard of your parent's case—I was a young agent then, just starting out—I thought it bore an unnerving connection to mine. I followed Anne to the states. You were just a coincidence at first, but this is…She must have known how I felt about you. I put you in danger. Elizabeth, I'm so sorry. I just can't think that if—" She put her hand on his.

"Whatever you suppose your wrongs have been, you are forgiven." She took a breath. "What happened to her?"

"To whom? Anne?"

"Yeah."

"She's been…dealt with." Lizzy knew better than to ask what that meant.

**Author's Note: Eeep. Just about done, which is really scary in every sense of the word. As embarrassing as this is, this bloody (ha) thing has been bothering me for two years. Weird to think it's almost over. Anyway, I've starting plotting for the next go-around, suggestions welcome. I say it every time, or at least I mean to, but I love you all, those new and old. If anyone needs anything, I'm here to talk. Hope you're all doing alright and, if people have questions, feel free to message me. I'm a second semester senior now. I have all the time in the world. **

**Much love and best wishes, **

**Zoe**


	27. An Epilogue

_A Few Months Later_

It is a truth universally acknowledged that those who fight the hardest win. It's a supposed truth, an accepted truth. Elizabeth Bennet felt herself walking proof. She had fought for so long, she could hardly believe she had reached peacetime. She never thought she'd be allowed peacetime. She looked at her sister next to her, who happened to be crying profusely.

"Jane. Please. You'll make me sob."

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping her eyes. "It's just, my little baby is growing up. I can't believe that…I just. It seems so soon. You know, Lizzy, just in case you have any doubts…"

"Jane," she said, fussing with a pin in her hair, "I've never had fewer doubts about anything in my life."

"You really love him?"

"More than anything in the world. Oh Jane. You know how you feel with Bingley? I hoped beyond hope that I could have half the happiness you two shared. I craved what you felt all those months ago, and I've found it. He makes me happier than anything I've ever found. Happier than work, happier than books, happier than—"

"Chocolate ice cream."

"He's a close second to chocolate ice cream." They laughed together. "Look at the two of us." Lizzy sniffled. "Two crazed sisters sobbing together. People will think we're deranged."

"Eh, they'll have to manage," said Jane. "They're clearly jealous of our superiority."

"Entirely."

"To think that a year ago we were just two sisters drifting off into middle age. We were a small family, Lizzy."

"We'll have a few additions soon enough. He did give you quite a sparkler, didn't he?" Jane smiled down at her own ring finger.

"Charles spoils me."

"You deserve to be spoiled, sister dearest. Though, I'll admit you two are far more touchy than is perhaps necessary," Lizzy said. Jane giggled.

"I do love him."

"Just as much as I love mine. We've done alright for ourselves."

"Mum would've been proud," Jane said, wrapping an arm around her sister. "You think they know?"

"It's the one fairytale I still believe in." The two sisters looked at each other

"You know, I wouldn't trade you for anything in the world."

"And I you." The two sisters embraced, tears leaking slowly down their cheeks. When they separated, Lizzy calmed herself and swiped at her eyes.

"Oh Lizzy, you're the most beautiful bride I've ever seen," Jane cried, placing a hand over her heart. Lizzy had to admit she looked all right, despite the slightly smeared mascara. Her gown appeared strapless with a sweetheart neckline, lace sleeves coming to her elbows, hugging her waist in a embroidered pearls and petals before flowing into a tulle skirt. The bodice petalled out in waves, skirt swishing as she walked. Her long hair had been tucked up in pearl pins. Small tendrils of her chestnut tresses tumbled down her neck. A small diamond hung on a platinum chain, a recent birthday present from Darcy. On her right had was her mother's pearl ring. It had gone to Jane in the will, but she had thought it appropriate for Lizzy to wear it that day. . She fingered it; it felt like her family was with her. Lizzy spun around, girlish in her glee.

"He makes you so happy," Jane said. "Oh, he makes me want to cry." The two sisters embraced. Jane gave her a kiss on the cheek and walked outside. Lizzy commanded herself to stop bawling and set herself about fixing her eyeliner.

* * *

As she walked down the aisle, white peonies in hand, she felt nervous. But, reaching the man she loved, the man with the moppy hair, she gave an easy grin at the tear in his eye. With vows finished and relatives crying, he pulled her into a kiss.

"Elizabeth."

"William?"

"I love you, more than words can say. I just," he struggled not to cry. "Forgive me for everything. Any perceived fault or aberration. I'm not a perfect man, and I know that. My faults number in the hundreds, my tongue frequently ceases to say what is meant. In fact, my brain has no idea what it's doing ninety percent of the time. I just—" Lizzy put a finger to his lips.

"William. I'm your wife. I love you. All of you."

"Elizabeth Bennet," he said, falling into a smile. "Will you have this dance with me?" She placed her arm in his, and the two began to walk, arms entwined, into their future. They had settled on a garden wedding in July, up on a lake in Maine. They had wanted something small, and setting it out of state had allowed them to disregard most coworkers. They were happy in their solitude, holding hands by the water while the party glittered behind them. Neither understood what they had done to deserve such a fate, such eternal happiness as they were promised, but they lacked the faculties to process it and the persistence to try. They settled on happiness, pure and unadulterated contentedness. They settled on happiness for the rest of their lives.

**Author's Note: And that's that. **

**A note on the wedding bits. Right, the ring was sort of loosely based on a Tiffany thing that I adore ( **** /3zyrdgc**), the dress on a Zuhair Murad thing that I could die happy in ( ** /b6vpcsq**), and the hair on the bun thing that Keira wears to the Netherfield Ball. 

**Now the sappy bits. This is my first real fic and, as long as it's taken me, I've really genuinely enjoyed it. I guess all I can hope is that you all have enjoyed it too. I have more feeling for all of you than can truly be fathomed into sentences, and you've truly made this one of the better experiences of my life. I've been dreaming up a few new things, hopefully a few of which will come to fruition in the coming months. My deepest thanks for each and every one of you. **

**As always, much love and best wishes.**

**Zoe**


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